


second time lucky

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya confesses, and then it turns out that was the easy part.





	second time lucky

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written with mousapelli.

“So I guess what I’m saying is…” Fujigaya pauses to take a breath, forcing himself to look down into the other man’s eyes. “I like you. Like _that_. You know, going on dates and kissing and stuff.”

Kitayama blinks. “Are you high?”

“ _No_ ,” Fujigaya groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Did you lose a bet?”

“No, I’m seri—”

“You didn’t drink Miyata’s experimental kool-aid, did you?”

Kitayama looks genuinely worried when Fujigaya peeks through his fingers, and he almost laughs. “Experimental kool-aid?”

“If you don’t already know, I didn’t say anything,” Kitayama says evasively. “I’m not following your joke here, Fujigaya.”

“There’s no joke.” Fujigaya takes a deep breath; in all of his rehearsing and angsting, he’d never considered the possibility that Kitayama wouldn’t _believe_ him. “And do you have to address me so coldly?”

Now Kitayama stares at him. “You’re serious.”

“I _told_ you—” Fujigaya starts.

“There’s a camera, right?” Kitayama cuts him off, his face breaking out into a grin. “Man, you really had me going for a second.”

Rage fuels Fujigaya’s veins and he does the first thing he can think of, which is grab Kitayama by the collar and press their lips together. It’s as chaste as a kiss can get, about on the level of typical drama kisses, but even still he feels Kitayama gasp. Two hands grab his elbows and hold him stationery, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer.

He’s shaking when he pulls back, forcing his eyes to look into Kitayama’s, which are predictably wide and shocked. “I can’t be so close to you at work, because all I want to do is _that_.”

Kitayama’s eyes return to their normal size and he nods once. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Fujigaya repeats, his heart racing.

“Okay.” Kitayama offers a small smile. “I accept your feelings.”

It’s so nonchalant that Fujigaya wants to strangle him a little. “How can you be so calm about this?”

Kitayama shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, it is to me!” Fujigaya exclaims. “I’ve spent _weeks_ working up the nerve to confess to you, and—”

“Do you want me to say no?” Kitayama asks, giving him a blank look. “I don’t understand why you’re so freaked out when you’re the one who approached me about it.”

“Because I am _scared_ out of my _mind_ ,” Fujigaya admits. “How is this even going to work? Are we going to tell anyone? Do you even like me?”

Kitayama lifts a hand to Fujigaya’s shoulder. “One step at a time. The first step is taking me out to dinner. I’ll be ready in an hour.”

He turns to leave and Fujigaya narrows his eyes. “If I’m the one taking you out, that makes you the girl.”

“Fine with me,” Kitayama calls over his shoulder. “ _Taisuke_.”

Their first date is a complete disaster.

Fujigaya picks the restaurant, since he’s not the girl. It’s an Italian place he’s been to a couple times and has never had any complaints about before. Tonight, though, the service is slow as hell and their food takes forever. Fujigaya runs out of smalltalk material about after about ten minutes, and ends up downing half a bottle of wine in the awkward silence that follows.

It’s not the best idea, given his empty stomach.

“Is it hot in here?” Fujigaya asks, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt and fanning himself with his napkin.

“Or is it just me?” Kitayama laughs when Fujigaya scowls at his unintentional pickup line. “You don’t have to actually chat me up, you know.”

“Who on earth would chat _you_ up?” Fujigaya grumbles. His face feels hot and he’s worried about sweating through his shirt, and he’s starting to wonder if maybe girls wouldn’t be easier after all than this whole mess.

“Apparently you would,” Kitayama points out, and Fujigaya thinks sourly that it’s a mistake he’s not sure he ought to repeat. “Would you relax?”

“I’m trying,” Fujigaya says, glancing around at the other tables near them. It seems like the only people in the whole restaurant are couples on romantic dates, holding hands across the table or feeding each other bites of food, and it’s only increasing his discomfort as he imagines holding up a fork and going “Say ahn~” to Kitayama.

Kitayama is looking around too, but it’s with an expression of open jealousy as other tables are served their food. He’s so piteous that the girl at the table next to them eventually passes over their bread basket and tells him to help himself.

“Sorry,” Fujigaya apologizes, and he really does feel bad about his choice, because the way to Kitayama’s heart is surely not to take him to a terrible restaurant. “It’s always been fine here before.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Kitayama shrugs it off. He’s not nearly so blasé when their food finally arrives and his order is entirely wrong, and then the waiter knocks Kitayama’s glass of water right into his lap, and Fujigaya wants nothing more than to just crawl under the table.

He can barely even look Kitayama in the eye when they leave, keeping his eyes firmly on the sidewalk. It isn’t until Kitayama stops him with a hand on his arm and says his name that Fujigaya does drag his gaze up as slowly as possible, dreading what he’ll see on Kitayama’s face.

“Do better next time,” is all Kitayama says, and Fujigaya stammers as he realizes that means there will _be_ a next time. “Don’t look so surprised. The world has always been against us, hasn’t it? What makes this any different?”

The chill air of the winter night is more than sobering and even so Fujigaya fails at hiding his smile. “Nothing, I guess.”

They walk the rest of the way to Kitayama’s building in silence, that small pressure on Fujigaya’s arm telling him that Kitayama’s still there. It feels nice, comforting. It’s not until that pressure disappears that Fujigaya realizes where he is and feels as awkward as when he did this for _Kisumai Busaiku_.

“You’re transparent, you know that?” Kitayama breaks him out of his own head, which in all honesty is doing him a favor. “Do you want to come up?”

Fujigaya blinks at him, several times in succession, unable to get rid of the images that clutter his mind. Images of what could happen if he goes up to Kitayama’s apartment. It’s only their first date, but they’ve known each other forever and clearly that bypasses any dating rules. Besides, they’re both men—after everything that happened tonight, Fujigaya practically owes it to him to put out.

“Maybe not,” Kitayama answers for him, patting him on the arm again. “Good night, Taisuke. Thank you for an exceptionally horrible date.”

The laughter comes from nowhere, bellowing out of Fujigaya uncontrollably, and when he calms down enough to focus, Kitayama is laughing, too. “At least the bar is set pretty low?” Fujigaya tries.

“I like when you smile,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s laughter halts. “You hardly smile around me anymore. I forgot what it looked like when it’s not on TV or glossy paper.”

Against his better judgment, Fujigaya stops biting his cheeks and lets his true reaction show, what feels like a stupid grin and a flattered flush. “Old habits are hard to break.”

“Just remember whose idea this was,” Kitayama tells him, tugging on his sleeve a little before turning to walk away. Fujigaya watches him leave, his eyes shamelessly lowering to where Kitayama wears his pants quite well, and feels a little smug that it’s all his. Or at least it will be whenever they get there.

They just have to get through the complicated dating stuff first.

Senga figures it out first, not because he’s intuitive but because Fujigaya frowns when Kitayama leaves the room to take a call. “You look jealous as hell,” Senga says, having the decency to at least keep his voice down.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Fujigaya blurts out, bringing his hands to his face. “I thought it would be a good idea to confess, because that’s what you do when you like someone, right? That’s what they do in the dramas. But they don’t tell you what to do afterwards.”

“You…” Senga trails off, mouth making a small ‘o’ as he presumably puts two and two together. “And _Kitamitsu_?”

Fujigaya nods.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.” Fujigaya sits up and inhales deeply. “Our first date was a complete trainwreck and I have no idea what to do next.”

Senga manages to close his mouth and process this information enough to advise. “Well, it’s Kitamitsu, so anything involving food and doing nothing would be a good idea. And you’ve known him for like half of your life, so you don’t really need to court him.”

“I’m not trying to _court_ him,” Fujigaya hisses, wrinkling his nose. “He already agreed to go out with me, I just have to think of something for us to _do_.”

“Other than the obvious,” Senga inputs.

“Yes.” Fujigaya tries not to think too hard about that. “If I just wanted that, I wouldn’t go through all of this trouble.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Senga says with a big grin. Unfortunately, he’s kind of loud. “You really like him.”

“What’s cute?” Nikaido asks, nosy as usual from Senga’s other side. “Who does Gaya like?”

“ _No one_ —” Fujigaya starts, but Senga instantly turns around to whisper to his partner in crime. “Kento!”

“Everyone will find out eventually,” Senga tells him. “I’m just saving you the trouble of doing it yourself.”

“Gaya and Kitamitsu are _dating_?!” Nikaido exclaims, loud enough to possibly carry down the hallway, and Fujigaya finds himself faced with three more pairs of eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Senga tells him.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Yokoo says, sighing with relief as he pushes his hair out of his face. “It was so depressing watching you pine over him like a lovesick teenage girl.”

“You don’t have to tell everyone that,” Fujigaya grumbles.

Naturally Kitayama chooses this second to walk back into the room, looking from Fujigaya to Yokoo and back to Fujigaya. “Pining?”

Fujigaya stares at the floor. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t get a response right away and lifts his eyes to see Kitayama looking at him thoughtfully. “That was my mother who called,” Kitayama says. “She wanted to invite me to dinner on Sunday and insisted that you come, too.”

“You told her?” Fujigaya asks. Maybe if he wishes hard enough, a hole will open in the floor and swallow him up.

“Are we not telling people?” Kitayama replies, looking a little guilty.

“Don’t worry,” Senga assures. “I already did it for you.”

“No, really!” Nikaido insists, only getting louder when nobody looks at him. “Quit fucking with us, this is a Tackey prank, isn’t it? It totally is!”

It feels an awful lot like a Tackey prank, Fujigaya is thinking to himself as he takes the train the whole way out to Kitayama’s old place. There’s a lot of build-up and dread and a certain feeling of unreality, and if Kitayama’s mother is played by the big blue T-chan in an apron when he gets there, Fujigaya wouldn’t name it as the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him because of work.

The train ride is too long for him to sustain panic, though. After a while he starts to think instead about just how long it is, how many times Kitayama made this trip on his own to show up at a job that he had no earthly reason to think would ever pay him enough for it to make it his actual job. If Fujigaya’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think that he could have done the same, that he could have put in so much effort to catch up, for something that seemed so out of reach.

They used to talk about those sorts of things, when they were that much younger, to have conversations about serious things and how they felt about them. Fujigaya misses it, he realizes suddenly, and he isn’t even sure why they stopped, other than eventually the other members had started talking seriously with Kitayama as well, and Fujigaya hadn’t felt the need to compete for his attention.

Fujigaya shakes himself as Kitayama’s stop nears, not wanting to arrive and look like he’s in a mood. He’s been to the Kitayama’s apartment before, and certainly met his mother, but it feels different as he leaves the station and tries to remember which vending machine he turns left at. Nerves flutter in his stomach, and he does his best to squash them back down so that his voice sounds normal when he gets to the buzzer and calls up to say he’s here.

There’s a racket behind the door when Fujigaya gets to the apartment, and Kitayama is struggling to hold Pocky back with his foot when he pulls the door open.

“Pipe down, you!” he orders. “He’s not here to see you!”

Fujigaya squats down before Kitayama is even done talking, scratching Pocky’s ears and back and telling him what a good boy he is. The dog gives Kitayama a look which plainly says “shows what you know.”

“It’s because you smell like girl dog,” Kitayama informs Fujigaya, and his displeasure at being ignored by both of them is entirely adorable, in Fujigaya’s opinion. “Just get in here so I can shut the door already, geez.”

It smells amazing inside the apartment, and when Fujigaya says so, Kitayama’s expression is half agreement and half tortured. “She’s been cooking the best stuff all day, and she won’t let me taste _any_ of it.”

“That’s because what you think tasting is and whatever everybody thinks it is are about as comparable as Yamashita Tomohisa and the Yamashita Caveman,” Kitayama’s mother says as they enter the kitchen. She sets down the spoon she was stirring with and turns to eye her son, who sticks his tongue out at her.

To Fujigaya’s surprise, Kitayama-san greets him with a hug. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Please,” Kitayama-san laughs at Fujigaya’s formality, and it’s funny how much she looks like Kitayama when she smiles. She pulls back enough to fuss with Fujigaya’s haircut and cheeks. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Well, except for on the television. I’m glad for you that you’re so busy, but would it kill them to give you a break? You’re so thin!”

“Don’t fuss, Mom,” Kitayama says, shooing his mother’s hands away from Fujigaya.

“Jealous?” she teases him, and Kitayama snorts while Fujigaya turns a bit pink. “Go on, shoo. Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” she gives them a knowing look, “so don’t get too involved in…anything.”

“Your blush is adorable,” Kitayama says once they’re in his old room. “Honestly with all that shit you do on stage it’s amazing that you can blush at all anymore.”

“It’s embarrassing!” Fujigaya whines, flopping onto Kitayama’s bed dramatically. “Your mom thinks we’re in here doing it!”

“Nice to know she’s okay with that?” Kitayama chuckles when Fujigaya only whines some more. “You know, you say it’s embarrassing, but the first thing you did was throw yourself into my bed.”

“There’s no place else comfortable to sit,” Fujigaya says, but he sits up quickly and scoots back until his back is against the wall. Kitayama climbs onto the bed to sit next to him, mirroring his position with their feet dangling over the edge of the mattress, not too close but not so far away either.

“And you say ‘doing it’ like we’re still fifteen,” Kitayama says.

“Your mom thinks you’re fucking me into your mattress in here,” Fujigaya amends, purposely going to the opposite extreme now that he’s been challenged. Kitayama’s eyes darken at the suggestion, and Fujigaya feels a tug of want low in his belly, but refuses to be the first to look away.

“Who says I’ll be fucking you?” Kitayama asks, like it’s entirely casual, and the want spreads out over Fujigaya’s skin, making his fingers curl against Kitayama’s blankets a little. “Don’t look so surprised, Taisuke. I thought I was the girl, after all.”

“This and that are different,” Fujigaya retorts, looking away and losing their staring contest. It’s too hard to keep looking into Kitayama’s eyes when he can read in them exactly what Kitayama’s been thinking about.

Kitayama reaches over to put a hand on Fujigaya’s cheek and turns him back so that they’re facing each other properly. “You look disappointed. There’s no reason we can’t try both.” He leans forward to press their mouths together before Fujigaya can say anything back to that.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle given the topic of conversation, Kitayama making no move to deepen it even after Fujigaya starts kissing him back. Fujigaya slides closer, wanting more, and sighs into Kitayama’s mouth when Kitayama’s hand slides back from Fujigaya’s cheek, into his hair. One kiss turns into another, and another, Kitayama’s one hand tugging at Fujigaya’s hair and the other drifting down his back, while Fujigaya wraps arms around Kitayama’s neck and tries to drag him closer, licking at Kitayama’s lower lip until Kitayama lets him in.

Kitayama-san calls a five-minute warning through the door, and they spring apart like they really are still fifteen, then both start laughing at each other’s startled faces and wild hair.

“Should have told her to give us more than five,” Kitayama says, licking at his lower lip like it’s tickling him, and Fujigaya groans at the realization that Kitayama has been discussing what he’s going to do with Fujigaya in his bedroom with his mother deeply enough to have a contingency plan in place.

Dinner isn’t nearly as awkward as Fujigaya had expected, though that’s mostly because Kitayama-san is just as easygoing as her son. She asks how they got together and Kitayama answers that Fujigaya had confessed out of the clear blue sky and he figured what the hell why not. Fujigaya expects her to pry into his reasoning, _why_ he had confessed after so long of putting distance between them, but she just grins and tells Fujigaya he looks cute when he’s blushing.

The rest of the conversation is focused on both Kitayamas and their respective work, and Fujigaya finds out things going on in Kitayama’s life outside of their group that he didn’t know. It’s nothing too important, just how Kitayama ran into some old friends from high school and how he has new neighbors who like to thump their bass at all hours of the day, but Fujigaya still feels left out enough to hang onto every word.

Dinner leads to games because Kitayama is eternally a kid, the three of them playing Jenga and cheating up a storm. Fujigaya loses every single round because Kitayama’s strategy is to touch him right before he goes to pick up the piece. It’s not even anywhere indecent, just his arm or his shoulder or the one time he brushed Fujigaya’s bangs out of his eyes and Fujigaya bumped the table hard enough to knock over the tower. He’s even more embarrassed to be flustered like this in front of Kitayama’s _mother_ , who just laughs and high-fives her son each time because the competitive streak runs in the family.

None of them seem too keen to wrap up the evening; Fujigaya knows once he agrees to watch a movie on cable that they’re spending the night. It’s an interesting movie, actually, one that holds Fujigaya’s attention even after Kitayama predictably passes out on his shoulder. He’s suddenly filled with panic because he doesn’t know what to do—does he put his arm around him? Urge him to lay down in his lap? The weight of Kitayama’s head on his shoulder feels heavier than it really is, though the warmth against his side is nice.

“You should probably put him to bed,” Kitayama-san says gently, and Fujigaya turns to stare at her, seriously wondering if she can read his mind. “He’ll get a crick in his neck if he sleeps like that.”

“Oh,” Fujigaya replies, feeling a little dumb as he glances back toward the TV wistfully. He supposes he can always catch this movie another time. “Come on, Mitsu, let’s go to bed.”

“Not in front of my mother,” Kitayama mumbles, then smirks sleepily as Fujigaya rolls his eyes.

“I can watch this movie in my room,” Kitayama-san offers, and Kitayama laughs into Fujigaya’s shoulder.

After that it’s easy to lug Kitayama up by his waist, half carrying and half dragging him down the hall to Kitayama’s old bedroom, where he shoves Kitayama forward and sends him unceremoniously sprawling face-first onto his bed. “Where do you keep your spare futon?”

“What?” Kitayama asks, prying his eyes open with what looks like a lot of effort. “What do you need that for?”

“To sleep on?” Fujigaya guesses, staring pointedly at the other. “Unless you’re going to make me sleep on the floor.”

Kitayama sighs. “Taisuke, I thought you liked me. Get in here and cuddle me.”

Heat floods Fujigaya’s face at the demand, which doesn’t seem to bother Kitayama at all as he unsuccessfully tries to navigate himself under the covers. It’s quite comical to watch, actually, little grunts of frustration spilling from Kitayama’s lips as the blanket clearly does not move under his weight. Then he whines and it tugs at Fujigaya’s heart, leading him to put one foot in front of the other to approach the bed and untangle Kitayama from the covers.

He slips under them in the process, Kitayama curling right up to his chest, and Fujigaya didn’t expect his hair to smell so sweet, like oatmeal. His arms wrap around Kitayama without a second thought and Kitayama presses closer, filling Fujigaya’s body with his warmth.

“Why are your jeans still on?” Kitayama mumbles into his throat. “Are you actually that paranoid that you won’t even let yourself be comfortable?”

“I’m not used to this, okay,” Fujigaya hisses back as he rushes to unfasten his jeans and kick them off, cursing his lack of foresight. If he’d considered the possibility of staying the night, he’d have worn sweatpants like Kitayama. Now he’s just laying here in a T-shirt and boxers, very aware of the lack of clothing between them.

Kitayama doesn’t reply, and Fujigaya looks down to find that the other has fallen back to sleep. One arm is slung loosely around Fujigaya’s waist and soft, even puffs of air tickle his throat. Fujigaya leans back enough to appreciate Kitayama’s sleeping face, indulging his urge to touch it, gently running his fingers along Kitayama’s cheekbones and jaw before pushing his hair back.

“Feels nice,” Kitayama mumbles, and Fujigaya freezes. “Don’t stop. This is the most affection you’ve shown me since you confessed.”

“I’m sorry,” Fujigaya replies, whispering like there’s someone around to hear them. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“I can tell you what to do with me,” Kitayama says, his voice deep and promising as his eyes slowly open to meet Fujigaya’s.

Fujigaya swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Here?”

“No, not here,” Kitayama replies, and Fujigaya exhales a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you being all weird and nervous around me meant that you didn’t want to do this.”

“I’m sorry,” Fujigaya says again. “I’m not good at—”

“It’s unexpectedly cute,” Kitayama tells him, and Fujigaya’s face feels warm again. “But I said yes, right? That means I want you to touch me.”

Fujigaya’s fingers come back to life, tracing the angles of Kitayama’s face down to his throat, which stretches to give him more access. “Okay.”

“I also want you to kiss me,” Kitayama says firmly, and Fujigaya licks his lips. “Like right now.”

Fujigaya slides his hand back up to Kitayama’s jaw and leans in, brushing their lips together so lightly that it can hardly be counted as a kiss, but then Kitayama’s arm is tightening on his waist and Fujigaya presses more firmly, growing confident in his actions. This time he flicks his tongue along the seam of Kitayama’s lips right away and Kitayama parts them, making this faint noise in the back of his throat when their tongues touch. It’s not very fast, but it’s deep and _hot_ enough for Fujigaya to lose his mind, transporting to a world where all he knows is Kitayama and how his mouth tastes.

Fingers slide up into his hair and now he’s the one making noises, except his is a legitimate moan that has Kitayama moving closer and tugging a little harder. Fujigaya feels the heat of Kitayama’s body against his and his nerves soar for reasons other than the anxiety he’s been experiencing lately.

“Mm,” Kitayama mumbles, licking Fujigaya’s tongue a few more times before gradually ending the kiss way before Fujigaya is ready. “Much better. Good night.”

He curls back up against Fujigaya’s chest, where Fujigaya’s heart is pounding in his ribcage and he knows Kitayama can hear it. Or could, since he’s out like a light and all Fujigaya can do is wrap his arms around him and hold him close, enjoying the warmth and comfort for as long as he can until morning comes and he has to go back to winging his entire life that has seemed to turn upside-down now that they’re together.

It barely even qualifies as morning when Fujigaya wakes up from a _very_ nice dream, hard as a rock and skin practically tingling. It takes him a few long seconds to realize the most important part wasn’t even a dream.

“Mmm,” Kitayama hums, rolling against Fujigaya like a slow, deliberate wave. Fujigaya is curled up along Kitayama’s back, so he can’t see whether Kitayama is awake or asleep as he rubs his ass back against Fujigaya’s crotch.

“Mitsu?” Fujigaya asks, still sleep fuzzy, but his body seems to be carrying on well enough on its own without any direction from him. When he gets no response, Fujigaya pulls Kitayama closer with the arm he’s got thrown over Kitayama’s waist. He leans forward to nose at the hair just behind Kitayama’s ear, to whisper against his skin. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Kitayama sighs, and Fujigaya feels relief wash through his veins, because Kitayama wouldn’t even get mad probably if Fujigaya took advantage of him, but Fujigaya wouldn’t be able to face him at all after something like that. Kitayama says his name, voice rough and low, and it makes Fujigaya press even closer. He slides a hand down Kitayama’s chest, wanting to know if Kitayama is just as hard as he is, and Kitayama’s groan vibrates against his own chest when he curls his hand around Kitayama’s length through his sweatpants.

Kitayama rolls over suddenly, making Fujigaya blink in surprise, then gasp when their close tangle means Fujigaya can basically rub his cock right against Kitayama’s, no sweatpants of his own to muffle the sensation.

“What?” Fujigaya manages, since Kitayama is looking at him awfully seriously for somebody rubbing off on him at six in the morning.

“This…” Kitayama hesitates, then seems to decide just to go for it. “It won’t be like that other time, right?”

Fujigaya winces, arousal flagging a little. The truth is that it’s not the first time he’s been in exactly this position with Kitayama, although the last time he’d been a lot younger and stupider, and had much bigger hair. Kitayama had made it seem like no big deal when he slipped into Fujigaya’s bed in their hotel rooms, or when Fujigaya had crawled into his because he couldn’t sleep. Looking back, Fujigaya is sure now that Kitayama must have been bluffing about the amount of experience he’d had, but back then just like now, it had been important to Fujigaya to prove that he knew just as much as Kitayama, that it wasn’t any big deal for him either.

Except for how it was a big deal, for Fujigaya. It felt so good and hurt in equal measure, and after only a few times Fujigaya hadn’t seen any choice but to pull away. He hadn’t seen any other way to keep Kitayama, or everyone else, from finding out about the way his chest ached when Kitayama was someplace else, and sometimes even worse when he was standing right there.

And it had worked, for years even, until he’d gone and confessed like a complete idiot.

“I…” Fujigaya finally tries to answer Kitayama’s question, but the truth is that he’s afraid it will turn out exactly like that other time. Why shouldn’t it?

“Tell me it won’t,” Kitayama says when Fujigaya takes too long. He’s looking into Fujigaya’s eyes, so deeply it’s entirely awkward, but Fujigaya doesn’t look away. “Say it’ll turn out better, and I’ll believe you.”

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya breathes, touched to be so trusted when he knows he doesn’t deserve it at all. The ache in his chest is back, just as sharp as it ever was when he was sixteen or nineteen or twenty-two. “I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Then don’t,” Kitayama says simply, still watching him patiently. Fujigaya takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying not to be so afraid.

When he’s sure his voice will be steady, he says, “It’ll be better this time.”

He expects Kitayama to smile, or say something, or even go back to sleep, but what he does nearly knocks the wind out of Fujigaya as he finds himself flat on his back with Kitayama on top of him, his mouth latching onto Fujigaya’s throat and bringing Fujigaya right back where he was with a sharp snap of his hips. It’s nothing like it was before—not that he remembers any of it, having blocked it out of his mind for so long—and it feels like the first time they’re moving together like this. Maybe it’s because he’s older now, but it feels much more intense than back then.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, his deep voice vibrating Fujigaya’s throat all the way down to where he’s rubbing against Kitayama. “I want you so badly.”

“Me too,” Fujigaya replies thoughtlessly, reaching his hand down to push down the front of Kitayama’s sweats. “God, me too.”

“Not right now,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya whines a little. “Not here, not like this.”

In the part of his brain that is still processing normally, he knows that Kitayama’s right. In the part that wants to get fucked (or fuck, whichever), he doesn’t understand it at all. Why does everything have to be so complicated? When he was young, he could just mess around with whoever he wanted and it didn’t mean anything—which is exactly what had ended them before anything had even began.

Because this, this means something.

He starts to pull his hand away, but Kitayama grabs his wrist. “Oh, no, we’re getting off,” he says decidedly, releasing him to draw Fujigaya’s erection out of his boxers. He takes it firmly in his hand and twists a little, squeezing the head on the upstroke. “You still like it like this?”

“How do you remember—” Fujigaya starts to ask, interrupting himself with a low moan that goes unmuffled.

“I never wanted to forget,” Kitayama replies, his breath escaping in gasps as Fujigaya takes out his growing tension on Kitayama’s length, and somehow the words still pierce through his cloud of arousal to sting his heart. A lot.

“I’m sorry,” Fujigaya says, and means it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You already are.” Kitayama sucks along Fujigaya’s neck as he moves faster, light enough to not leave a mark. “Now come with me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Fujigaya gasps, his back arching as his body follows orders like it had just been waiting for them, Kitayama’s hand tight around him to milk out every last drop. He thumbs the head of Kitayama’s cock until it twitches and comes all over his fingers, accompanied by a groan so low that Fujigaya feels it throughout his body.

A few seconds later finds Kitayama squinting at the clock by his bed. “Is it actually six-thirty in the morning?”

“You like it early, apparently,” Fujigaya replies with a yawn, feeling tingly and pleasantly exhausted.

“You started it,” Kitayama mumbles as he pushes himself up enough to grab some tissues from the nightstand. “You started this whole thing.”

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal to you,” Fujigaya says, half teasing, though the hope he feels when Kitayama meets his eyes is real.

“It wasn’t,” Kitayama affirms. “Now it is.”

“What changed?”

Kitayama takes a deep breath that seems bigger than he is. “Last night, when you touched my face, I…fell. I’m weak to your affections, Taisuke, I always have been. Or did you block out that part, too?”

“Mitsu.” Fujigaya’s voice comes out in a gasp as he lifts a shaky hand to Kitayama’s face. Kitayama tilts his head right into it, his eyelashes fluttering shut as Fujigaya traces his features much like he’d done the night before. “I’m so sorry.”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this,” Kitayama says firmly, and Fujigaya sees in his eyes how serious he is, about his words and about Fujigaya himself. “I won’t let you walk away from me again.”

Seeing this passionate side of Kitayama that’s usually only reserved for work has Fujigaya’s heart soaring even more. “Okay.”

“Have you told your family about me?” Kitayama asks, narrowing his eyes at Fujigaya’s guilty look. “Tell them. I won’t let you have me until you do.”

“Have you…” Fujigaya repeats, then his eyes widen as he catches on. “Can’t I just tell my mom?”

“No,” Kitayama answers, and Fujigaya winces a little at having to look his father in the eye and tell him he’s in a relationship with another man. “We can’t go public because of work, but that just means that we need to be able to be open about it around our loved ones.”

Deep down, Fujigaya knows that Kitayama is right, and it’s not like he’s ashamed or anything. His father is old-fashioned, but Fujigaya is twenty-five years old and there’s not much his old man can do. He doesn’t even care what his brothers say. He hasn’t been much of a role model up until this point; settling down with anyone is an infinitely better influence than most of the things he’s done in the past.

“I’ll tell them,” Fujigaya says, “if you’re there with me.”

“Deal,” Kitayama replies, his smile erasing all of Fujigaya’s apprehensions. “That will really mean a lot to me.”

Kitayama’s eyes are drooping, and Fujigaya laughs as he sways where he leans. “Tired?”

“Feelings are exhausting,” Kitayama mumbles, and Fujigaya happily accepts him into his arms to catch another few hours of sleep before they have to think about being anywhere.

There are many things that Fujigaya didn’t take into consideration when he’d made the decision to confess to Kitayama. There weren’t many things he _did_ take into consideration, actually, if any. As he was mostly focused on the confession, there wasn’t much thought for the aftermath, aside from the dating and kissing.

Fujigaya sits spread-eagle on a pilates ball and leans back against Kitayama’s chest, staring at a camera and the leering staff-san who like to torture him the most. Kitayama’s the only reason he’s remaining stationary, one arm wrapped loosely around his neck while the other flashes the peace sign. A month ago he would have just been aggravated; now he has to stop his body from reacting to Kitayama’s closeness in a way that would send fangirls across the world into spontaneous orgasm solely from the look in his eyes.

The good news is that visually it has more or less the same effect.

“Fujigaya-kun, do try and lean just a little farther away from Kitayama-kun, I don’t think there’s an entire prefecture in between you two yet,” the photographer says sarcastically after putting up with it for a good twenty minutes. “And if Nikaido-kun and Senga-kun could stop giggling like junior high girls! Honestly, what is with you all today?”

“Sorry,” all the troublemakers chorus, and Nikaido grumbles a “we’ll work harder” when Yokoo shoots him a particularly fierce glare.

After the shoot, on the other hand, things are a lot different now. As soon as they’re released and out of sight, Kitayama wraps fingers around Fujigaya’s wrist tight enough to make his blood sing and drags him into the bathroom, shoving him up against the door to keep it shut in case anyone tries to actually use the room for its intended purpose.

“You’re so cute when you’re annoyed,” Kitayama murmurs, lips pressed against Fujigaya’s throat, and Fujigaya gasps when he feels the sharp edges of Kitayama’s teeth against his skin. Their hips are already rolling against each other, playing symmetry as always.

“Well, if you want me to jump you on camera,” Fujigaya snaps, tense more from want than actual irritation, but it makes his voice sharp either way. He slides hands up the back of Kitayama’s ugly photoshoot shirt and down into his fashionably distressed jeans, the fit tight enough that his fingers dig in to Kitayama’s skin.

Kitayama groans in approval, hips snapping up harder. He’s fiddling with Fujigaya’s buttons, opening them one by one and mouthing at Fujigaya’s skin as he pulls the shirt further and further to the sides, until it’s finally just hanging on Fujigaya’s shoulders. He drags fingers up Fujigaya’s ribs and back down again, using just enough of his nails that Fujigaya whines his name.

“Shush,” Kitayama reminds, not that he stops doing any of the things that are making Fujigaya so loud. He leans in to lick at one of Fujigaya’s nipples suddenly, grinning when it makes Fujigaya jump. “Are you so close already? Mm, Taisuke, how long have you been hard? The whole shoot? Damn, that’s so hot when I know it’s just for me.”

“Clothes,” Fujigaya gasps a warning, because once Kitayama gets going with his mouth pretty much nothing shuts him up, and Fujigaya is close enough that it might not take too much more than just his mouth.

Kitayama’s grin just gets wider, and then he drops to his knees. He’s got Fujigaya’s fly unzipped and cock in his hand before Fujigaya can do much more than groan his name, and then he flicks his tongue against Fujigaya’s head, grip tight and hot and perfect.

“You know,” Kitayama says conversationally between licks, “if you’d just hurry up…you could do so much better…than my hand…or my mouth.”

If it gets much better than Kitayama’s mouth Fujigaya isn’t sure he’ll survive it, but he doesn’t actually manage to say any of those words. Instead all that comes out is a broken wail that he tries and fails to muffle as he comes, Kitayama’s lips right tight around his cock and staring up at Fujigaya with dark, intent eyes.

“I’m working on it,” he says, when he can draw half a breath. He’s glad when Kitayama stands and leans into him, because he isn’t sure his shaking legs are going to hold him much longer.

“You swear?” Kitayama asks, and Fujigaya nods, hating the little bit of uncertainty in Kitayama’s eyes. But even though he doesn’t deserve it, Kitayama still takes him at his word. “All right. But make it up to me.”

That part Fujigaya doesn’t mind at all.

No idea who else to turn to for advice, Fujigaya ends up explaining the situation to Senga, just because he needs somebody to talk to while he tries to figure out how to tell his family. What Senga suggests is practice, which doesn’t sound like the worst idea until Fujigaya is standing in front of Miyata and Tamamori, who are both seated on Yokoo’s couch at Senga’s request. Miyata is looking up with polite interest, while Tamamori is plainly going to bolt the very second that Yokoo calls the food is ready.

“Go on,” Senga says, coaxing. “Just tell them.”

“The thing is…” Fujigaya takes a deep breath. “It’s…I…Kitayama…I can’t do this,” Fujigaya huffs, cheeks pink and entirely flustered. He turns to Senga, pointing an accusing finger at the pair on the couch. “This is stupid! They already know! And Tama keeps making faces!”

“Not any stupider than your faces are,” Tamamori sniffs. Miyata gets out half a chuckle before Tamamori raises an eyebrow, and Miyata cuts off immediately, expression innocent.

“If they already know, what’s the big deal?” Senga says. “If you can’t tell us, how are you going to ever be able to tell your family?”

“Are you even sure you should?” Miyata asks, looking worried on Fujigaya’s behalf. “I mean…things are okay like this. So why…” he trails off when Senga and Tamamori both give him derisive looks.

“It’s…” Fujigaya struggles for a minute, because _my boyfriend won’t let me fuck him until I out us_ doesn’t seem like either a right or a good answer. “He doesn’t want to hide. I don’t want to either,” he adds, feeling like it’s more true now that the words have hit air. “I want…I want to be honest about my feelings.”

Senga raises an eyebrow and gestures invitingly towards Miyata and Tamamori. Fujigaya squares his shoulders.

“I’m with Kitayama,” he tells them, and it’s simple, but he means it. “I confessed and he accepted, and so we’re dating, and I’m really serious about it. I’m really serious about him.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kitayama says from behind, making Fujigaya jump nearly out of his skin. He spins to find Kitayama in the doorway, stripping off his coat. “But could you use my first name when you repeat that to your parents? Because it sounds like I’m your boss at work or something, and you’re my cute little underling, when you say it like that.”

“Whose boss would you even be?!” Fujigaya snaps, hackles raised at being caught off-guard, and all the more annoyed for how Senga and Tamamori are totally laughing at him.

“I think it sounded great,” Miyata puts in, elbowing Tamamori. “It came from your heart, and that’s what’s important. I think your family will see that too.”

“Thanks,” Fujigaya grunts, tension easing a little but still grumpy. Just then Yokoo calls that dinner is done. Miyata, Tamamori, and Senga all take off like they haven’t seen food in weeks, but Fujigaya stands a moment, trying to collect himself.

“It really did sound good,” Kitayama assures, coming close enough to cup Fujigaya’s face in his hands. “You should say it to them exactly like that.”

He gives Fujigaya a long, sweet kiss as incentive, then tugs him along by the hand to join the others for food, claiming he’s starving and about to die if he doesn’t get to eat whatever smells so good right now.

Work picks up soon after that, for which Fujigaya is incredibly grateful because it has an inverse effect on his relationship. The pressure of being with Kitayama dies down considerably, though Kitayama himself really has nothing to do with it. Aside from his ultimatum, Kitayama is pretty easygoing when it comes to things that girls would normally flip out about, like calling when you say you will or remembering details. He’s also really good at tolerating Fujigaya’s moods that range from hermit to PMS.

Then again, if anyone is qualified to put up with Fujigaya’s shit, it’s Kitayama. Half of the mean things Fujigaya says to him would send anyone else running, male or female, but Kitayama just rolls his eyes and pokes him somewhere he _knows_ will make Fujigaya squeal. It’s mostly habit anyway by this point, and besides he thinks Kitayama likes seeing him all flustered. To him, the insults are as good as a confession.

Putting out an album basically gives Fujigaya something to devote his attention to other than telling his parents about Kitayama. Ironically enough they bicker even _more_ at work, leading more than one member to say they liked it better when the two were ignoring each other, but Fujigaya thinks it actually makes them more efficient. At least they understand each other better—all seven of them—when they hash things out like this.

The bad part about this is that it doesn’t occur to Fujigaya how long it’s been since they did anything together until he brushes past Kitayama in rehearsal and feels a bit of an ache. It’s more of a longing, but he’s not going to tell Kitayama that. He is, however, very aware that it’s been entirely too long since they’ve even spent time together, just the two of them, let alone any dubious activities.

“Hey,” he says before he can stop himself, catching up with Kitayama when they break for the night. They’re both sweaty and gross and even still Fujigaya twitches at the way Kitayama’s hair is plastered to his forehead. “Come over?”

“Tonight?” Kitayama replies, eyes wide, and Fujigaya’s join them as he realizes what Kitayama thinks he’s implying.

“Not for that,” he rushes to say, waving his hands for emphasis. “Just…to hang out. I haven’t seen you for awhile, you know, other than here.”

The corners of Kitayama’s lips turn up into a smile. “Okay. Let me grab a shower first, unless I can use yours.”

“That should be fine,” Fujigaya replies. “I’ll text my mom to see if there’s any dinner left, otherwise we can pick something up on the way.”

It’s late when they arrive, but the Fujigaya household is bustling with both parents and both siblings who all look shocked to find Kitayama accompanying the oldest son home from work. They know who he is and have long since been introduced, but Fujigaya is pretty sure the closest Kitayama has been to his house was if he was already in the van when they were being picked up for filming.

“That was weird,” Fujigaya hisses as they trample up the stairs. “They didn’t look like that the first time Kento came over.”

“Because you look totally guilty,” Kitayama replies in his normal voice, albeit quieter. “Though they probably think we’re just up to something disturbing or potentially illegal.”

Fujigaya lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and Kitayama just rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, okay, I’m still thinking about how to tell them.”

“I’m not rushing you,” Kitayama says, a single touch to Fujigaya’s arm washing away most of his nerves. “I’m just saying you’re making it really obvious that I’m not just a friend from work.”

“Because you’re not just a friend from work,” Fujigaya tells him, and Kitayama does a very bad job of hiding his smile. “You can have the first shower. You reek.”

“You’re not exactly pleasant yourself,” Kitayama shoots back, jabbing a finger just under Fujigaya’s ribs hard enough to pull a shrill noise from him. “Too bad we’re not at my place—we could just share one.”

Fujigaya turns to stare at him so fast that he almost runs into the bathroom door, at which Kitayama doubles over laughing as Fujigaya gathers a towel and some spare toiletries and throws them at Kitayama’s head. “Don’t do anything dirty in my shower.”

“Why would I?” Kitayama replies, slipping into the bathroom with a filthy grin. “That’s what I have you for.”

He closes the door before Fujigaya can respond, which is just as well since Fujigaya didn’t have anything to say to that anyway. He completely ignores Kitayama when the latter shuffles into Fujigaya’s room a bit later in street clothes he’d already had in his bag, including a pair of worn jeans that fit him _very_ well, water dripping from his hair like he’s incapable of drying it properly before he’s in Fujigaya’s presence. Fujigaya can’t get to the shower fast enough, narrowly avoiding doing the exact thing he’d warned Kitayama not to, even though he knows that nothing like that can happen here. At least not in the next couple hours while everyone is still awake.

Naturally Kitayama’s asleep when Fujigaya returns to his room, having nodded off in the middle of doing something on his phone. It’s totally surreal to see Kitayama _in his bed_ , curled up on his stomach with his hair in his eyes while his torso rises and falls with each breath. Fujigaya steps closer, carefully sitting on the edge of his bed to look down at the other man. His face is so peaceful and relaxed, which admittedly Fujigaya hasn’t seen since they’ve gotten busy again.

“You are such a creeper,” Kitayama mumbles, narrow slits forming in his eyes as he looks up at Fujigaya. “Who watches people while they sleep?”

Fujigaya makes an annoyed sound. “Maybe you’re more attractive when you’re not running your mouth.”

“Lies,” Kitayama says, pausing for a small yawn. “You love what I can do with my mouth.”

His mind flashes back to that day in the bathroom and a shiver of arousal courses through him. “We can’t do anything until they go to bed.”

“I knew that’s why you invited me over.” Kitayama rolls onto his back, stretching enough for his shirt to ride up, but Fujigaya tears his eyes away from it to focus on something more important.

“That’s not it at all,” Fujigaya says. “I invited you over because I miss you, idiot.”

Kitayama’s expression softens, his hand reaching up for Fujigaya’s face. “I miss you, too.”

“It’s even worse when we’re working together,” Fujigaya goes on, breaking eye contact because he feels stupid saying this. “Because you’re _right there_ and yet I can’t be close to you.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says gently, forcing Fujigaya’s face back toward him. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Fujigaya mumbles, but then Kitayama’s pulling him down for a kiss and he can’t do anything but melt into it. His lips tingle as the scent of his own shampoo wafts all around him, and the next second has him wrapping his arms around Kitayama and lying down next to him to feel his warm body next to his as they kiss.

“Hey aniki, Mom wants to know if Kitayama-kun is staying the ni—”

Fujigaya jumps back like he’d been burned, so forcefully that he completely falls off of his bed onto the floor, while Kitayama just blinks dazedly like he doesn’t know where he is. Reluctantly Fujigaya lifts his eyes to Yuusuke, who’s peering at them more like they’re a pair of aliens making out on Fujigaya’s bed instead of his older brother and another guy.

“That’s a yes, then,” Yuusuke says with a smirk, then turns to leave without any further comment.

“Oh shit,” Fujigaya mutters, banging his face against the edge of his bed.

“Well, there’s one way to do it,” Kitayama says, sounding entirely unbothered, and Fujigaya looks up to glare at him. “What? He didn’t say we were gross or anything.” Fujigaya only grunts at him as he climbs to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to him, obviously.” Fujigaya waves Kitayama off when he starts to sit up. “Stay. It’s probably better if it’s just me, with him.” Kitayama shrugs, but he offers Fujigaya a good luck smile.

Yuusuke is sprawled on his bed, engrossed in his phone when Fujigaya sticks his head into the room. “Hey,” he says, making Yuusuke look up. “I just—”

“I don’t care that you were making out with Kitayama-kun,” Yuusuke interrupts. “I mean, I didn’t want to see it, but I don’t care about it.”

“Really?” Fujigaya asks, feeling relieved. He comes in and sits down on the edge of Yuusuke’s bed, nudging him with a shoulder when Yuusuke goes right back to his phone. “It doesn’t bother you really?”

Yuusuke huffs a sigh at the interruption, but snaps his phone shut and looks at Fujigaya properly. “Really. I mean, did you think you were fooling anybody? Aniki, you’ve never even mentioned a girl’s name unless it was to complain that you have to kiss one in a drama.”

“That’s…” Fujigaya frowns, but honestly Yuusuke’s probably right. “Whatever. Do you think Mom and Dad will…” Fujigaya trails off, not sure what he wants to ask. Be okay? Get angry? Start setting up appointments with professional matchmakers?

“You want to tell them?” Yuusuke blinks. “Why?”

“I just do,” Fujigaya says, not wanting to explain any more than he’d wanted to explain to Miyata and Tamamori. “I don’t like feeling like I’m hiding it, not from you. Or them.”

Yuusuke shrugs, like _it’s your funeral_. “They’re your parents too, you should know just as well as I do. Mom I think already suspects, like me. Dad might get upset, but he’ll get over it. Ryosuke…hm.”

“You think?” Fujigaya is surprised that Yuusuke thinks their brother will be one most likely to have a problem. On the other hand, Ryosuke does complain often about how hard it is to have older brothers who are such weirdoes, and even if some of it is melodrama, Fujigaya feels like there might be a kernel of truth underneath.

“Mm,” Yuusuke says evasively, “but you know him. If he sees that you’re happy, he’ll get over it. Are you happy?”

“It’s going all right so far.” Fujigaya feels a weird mix of awkwardness and relief to be able to talk with his brother about Kitayama. Even though he hasn’t really had to do any lying so far, the two of them have always been close, and he feels better knowing that he could talk to Yuusuke about it if he wanted to. Then he thinks about something else Yuusuke said. “But it isn’t like you’re bringing girls home either. Have you ever…”

“We’ve been sharing a porn stash for ten years, aniki.” Yuusuke rolls his eyes. “You’re awful slow if you haven’t figured out my type by now.”

Fujigaya wrinkles his nose, making an exaggerated face of discomfort, and Yuusuke whacks him with one of his pillows and says just get out already, bonding time is officially over.

He’s not surprised when Kitayama seems to be asleep by the time he comes back into his own room, Kitayama curled on his side and breath deep and even. But Kitayama rolls onto his back when Fujigaya sits down next to him, making the mattress dip.

“How’d it go?” Kitayama asks, then yawns.

“Aside from being traumatized by the mental image of my little brother in a Coat AV that involves school uniforms?” Fujigaya shudders; Kitayama blinks. “It’s fine. He said it wasn’t a surprise, really.”

That makes Kitayama chuckle. “I can’t say I felt surprised. I mean, about me, I was, but…I’ve never heard you even mention a girl unless it was to complain that you have to kiss one in a drama.”

“Shut up!” Fujigaya tells him, annoyed that Kitayama and Yuusuke are on exactly the same wavelength. “I’m busy! We aren’t even allowed to date girls!”

“Easy, easy,” Kitayama soothes, not that he manages to wipe most of the amusement off of his face. “I don’t want any girls putting their hands on you anyway. You’re mine.”

The plain, bold way Kitayama says it makes Fujigaya’s blood rush, and he leans down to capture Kitayama’s mouth before he can say anything else crazy. Fujigaya’s had all the shocks that he can take for the immediate future. Kitayama’s hands come up to brush Fujigaya’s shoulders, arms, and sides, coaxing him into lying down beside Kitayama without breaking the kiss, into sliding closer until they’re chest to chest and hip to hip. Fujigaya curls his own arms around Kitayama’s neck and starts to roll their hips together without thinking too hard about it, easy and steady like the ocean.

Kitayama’s hand drifts down to the edge of Fujigaya’s T-shirt, fingers teasing just under the waistband of Fujigaya’s sweatpants. Fujigaya pulls back just enough to get some air and hum a questioning noise, pressing his forehead against Kitayama’s. “I thought you said…”

“You did tell one of them,” Kitayama says, dragging lips across Fujigaya’s cheekbone and whispering right in his ear. “So I think some positive reinforcement is in order, don’t you?”

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya breathes, arching into the touch. “My _entire house_ is awake.”

“So you should be quiet, then.”

Fujigaya doesn’t have a choice when Kitayama presses their mouths together, slick and hot. They’ve done this so many times already and still Fujigaya hasn’t gotten used to it, a little shock every time their lips touch. With Kitayama’s hands all over him like this, Fujigaya couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to, which he definitely does not. Kitayama is unusually aggressive and it turns him on so much more.

“What do you want?” Kitayama whispers against his lips. “Other than me, of course.”

“What I want, we can’t do until much later,” Fujigaya replies, his breath hitching as Kitayama’s hand drops to cup his hardening length through his sweats. “If at all.”

“Tell me anyway,” Kitayama says, falling from Fujigaya’s mouth to let him speak. “Tell me while I jerk you off.”

“Tell you…” Fujigaya repeats, then chokes on a moan as Kitayama unties his sweats and dips his hand under the waistband. “I can’t talk while you do that!”

“Try.” Kitayama’s doing evil things to his neck that have him arching beneath him. “I love your voice when you’re like this, Taisuke. It’s so deep and sexy, I could probably get off just listening to you talk.”

“Fuck,” Fujigaya hisses, hips rolling into the slow, firm touch. “You said I can’t have you until I tell them, but you didn’t say you wouldn’t have me.”

“Mm,” Kitayama says, pressing the noise into Fujigaya’s neck as he turns to rub against Fujigaya’s hip. Fujigaya can feel how hard he is, a soft moan accompanying each grind. “Keep going.”

“You could be a little rough with me,” Fujigaya goes on, “a little desperate. Throwing me down or bending me over or holding me up against the wall, however you want it.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps, snapping his hips harder as he tightens his hand, and Fujigaya isn’t going to last very long at all.

“You could put your fingers inside me to open me up for you,” Fujigaya goes on, the words coming easier with each twist of Kitayama’s wrist. “Or I could do it myself, I don’t really care.”

Now Kitayama groans into his neck, deep enough to vibrate his whole body, and Fujigaya tosses his head back to feel more of it. “Watching you do that would be so hot.”

“Yeah?” Fujigaya replies, and Kitayama’s next breath is staggered. “Hey, don’t finish yet.”

“What? Why?” Kitayama shudders a little as he pauses, like he put on the brakes while speeding.

“Because I want to taste you,” Fujigaya tells him, and Kitayama fuses their mouths together, swallowing all of Fujigaya’s moans as he fists Fujigaya’s cock as fast as he can. He doesn’t let up even when Fujigaya comes hard over his fingers, continuing to pump him until there’s nothing left as all of Fujigaya’s noises die on Kitayama’s tongue.

Fujigaya finally has to pull back to breathe, taking deep breaths of air as Kitayama lays halfway on top of him, still shaking with need. He looks down and makes a face at the mess on his shirt, then pulls it off before rolling over and pinning Kitayama down onto his bed, taking in his flushed face and quick breaths. It’s _hot_ and only gets hotter when he unfastens Kitayama’s pants and pushes them down enough to pull out his cock.

“I’m going to come in like three seconds,” Kitayama warns him, his voice desperate as Fujigaya lowers himself down Kitayama’s body. Both sets of fingers thread through his hair when he pushes up the front of Kitayama’s shirt to kiss the smooth flesh of his abdomen, feeling the muscles quivering under his lips, and Fujigaya chuckles as the wet tip bumps his chin. “ _Please_ , Taisuke.”

“Okay, okay,” Fujigaya says, pretending to be irritated as he drops down the rest of the way and sucks Kitayama into his mouth. The grip on his hair tightens and Fujigaya relaxes his jaw, taking in as much as he can and making up the rest with his hand. He doesn’t waste any time and Kitayama’s hips snap upward like he can’t control it, little moans spilling from his lips along with Fujigaya’s first name.

“Now,” Kitayama hisses, followed by a soft moan as his cock pulses in Fujigaya’s mouth and releases on his tongue. Fujigaya drinks it all down and lets Kitayama fall from his lips, entirely spent, then rests his head on Kitayama’s stomach that rises and falls very quickly. “Come up here.”

Fujigaya makes an annoyed noise, but he stretches up as much as he can and Kitayama pulls him up the rest of the way, instantly licking into his mouth. They kiss lazily, no urgency or rush behind it, though Fujigaya makes it a point to tuck them both back into their pants should anyone happen to walk in again. He should really look into getting a lock on his door.

“Hey,” he says a little while later. “Why did you say yes?”

“Hm?” Kitayama replies, half asleep as expected. “Yes to you?”

“Yeah.” Fujigaya curls up on his chest and bristles at Kitayama’s hand that absently strokes his hair. “Did you already like me too, or did you just want to give me a chance?”

“Taisuke, I’ve known you for ten years,” Kitayama tells him, sounding more fond than exasperated. “I’ve never seen you look at _anyone_ the way you looked at me that day. I figured if you already felt that strongly about it, then I could try to return your feelings. And I did.”

“It was a shock, right?” Fujigaya asks, laughing a little. “Confessing out of nowhere like that.”

“I don’t question these things,” Kitayama says, his voice taking on a serious tone. “Who can explain why they feel what they feel? I’m not going to ask you why you like me, just accept that you do. Life is so much easier that way.”

Fujigaya smiles, the soothing sound of Kitayama’s heartbeat in his ear. “I’m really glad you did, even if it’s been a hectic ride so early on.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less with us.” Kitayama laughs. “Besides, we’ve made it a month already, right?”

“Have we?” Fujigaya asks, blinking as he tries to remember what day it is. “I’m bad with remembering dates.”

“Me too,” Kitayama admits. “Let’s just say it’s been a month.”

“Deal.”

Fujigaya starts to lean up for a kiss, but then Kitayama’s stomach grumbles and they’re both firmly reminded that they never got around to raiding Fujigaya-san’s refrigerator. They crawl out of bed and try to fingercomb their hair so it’s not entirely obvious what they’ve been up to, Fujigaya joking that they shouldn’t even bother, and then they could quit worrying about it.

“Be a little classier, why don’t you,” Kitayama retorts, but he squeezes Fujigaya’s hand before they leave the room, as if he knows Fujigaya’s joke is a cover for his cowardice. His touch is reassuring, and Fujigaya misses the warmth of his hand as soon as it leaves his.

Downstairs, Fujigaya’s mother fusses over both of them and insists on reheating things properly instead of them eating cold leftovers out of the containers like heathens. Fujigaya and Kitayama both whine melodramatically, insisting that they’ll _die_ if she doesn’t feed them _right now_ and making Fujigaya-san laugh at their butai-style acting. Her eyes are fond when she watches Kitayama shovel food into his mouth, a small smile on her lips when she turns to pick on her son instead, and Fujigaya thinks maybe his brother is right about how much their mother has figured out.

He still isn’t ready, but Fujigaya thinks if his mother will still love him in the end, then he’s getting closer after all.

For their one-month anniversary, whenever that actually is, Kitayama offers to cook dinner at his apartment. After weeks of their busy schedules, a home date sounds amazing to Fujigaya, especially when he’s promised pasta.

It’s less enchanting when he can hear the smoke alarm shrieking before Fujigaya even knocks on the door, and when Kitayama throws open the door, smoke billows out around him. Fujigaya struggles to hold in his laughter at Kitayama’s furious scowl.

“It’s not funny,” Kitayama says, brandishing a big wooden spoon with some sauce still stuck to it. When Fujigaya leans in for a test lick, he has to agree with Kitayama.

“I’ll still love you if you order takeout,” Fujigaya says once he’s finally gotten past Kitayama and into the kitchen. He eyes the disaster area dubiously, then realizes what he’d just said and backpedals. “Actually, make that if you love me, you’ll order takeout.”

Kitayama is uncharacteristically moody even after Fujigaya helps him clean up the mess and they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at Kitayama’s low table. The delivery ramen isn’t Italian, but it’s made of noodles at least, and Fujigaya is willing to let that count this anniversary.

He nudges Kitayama with his elbow when he notices Kitayama poking at his food. “What’s up with you? Are you mad about this? I don’t mind, really. It happens.”

“No.” Kitayama puffs his cheeks in annoyance, glaring down at his ramen like it’s all the noodles’ fault. “Doesn’t it feel sometimes like everything is a struggle? We can’t even do a home date without something setting on fire. It’s like the universe is against us or something.”

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya protests, uncomfortable because that hits a little too close to the mark for him.

“Don’t you ever worry that maybe all this disaster is trying to tell us something?” Kitayama frowns harder. “Like maybe we shouldn’t—”

Fujigaya drops his chopsticks and grabs Kitayama’s face in his hands, pulling him over for a deep, possessive kiss. It’s fierce and turns messy nearly right away, Fujigaya licking his way into Kitayama’s mouth and whining when Kitayama’s teeth are sharp against his bottom lip. By the time he pulls back, they’re both breathing hard and Fujigaya’s cheeks are warm, Kitayama’s eyes dark.

“I don’t worry, not when it feels like that,” he says, voice a lot lower than it was a minute ago. “Besides, if it doesn’t take work then it isn’t worth having, right? You used to tell me that like once a week.”

Kitayama’s smile is sheepish, but real. “Well, then you must be really worth having, then.”

It makes heat rush through Fujigaya’s veins, but he plays it cool, giving Kitayama a wink and letting go, sitting back like he’s letting Kitayama have a nice, long look. “You could always find out, if you wanted.”

“This entire apartment reeks of smoke and you want sex?” Kitayama replies, scoffing a little, then pauses when Fujigaya just rolls his head to the side and looks at him. “Wait, you actually want sex?”

Fujigaya nods. “Am I not being obvious enough?”

“You always look like you want sex, how am I supposed to know the difference?” Kitayama asks, looking a little flustered. “I know we talked about doing it that way the other night, but…”

“But,” Fujigaya prompts him, nudging his arm with one of his hands like a cat pawing for attention. “That’s not against the rules, right? If you do me?”

Kitayama reaches for his hand and holds it properly, lacing their fingers together and rubbing Fujigaya’s thumb with his own. It feels more intimate than anything they’ve done underneath their clothes and Fujigaya melts from the touch, his nerves on edge. Kitayama doesn’t actually finish his sentence, just tugs on Fujigaya’s hand and Fujigaya pounces on him, returning to his mouth like he’d never left and pinning him to the couch.

This kiss is much deeper, more urgent. Fujigaya rolls their hips together and feels Kitayama harden against him, effectively talking him into it. Hands grasp his waist and slide up his shirt, squeezing the muscles of Fujigaya’s back enough to feel really good, and Fujigaya groans a little into his mouth.

“Want to go to your room?” Fujigaya whispers, pressing the question into Kitayama’s lips, and Kitayama nods. Reluctantly he pulls away and stands up, bringing Kitayama with him so as to keep as little distance between them as possible, and they continue kissing as they navigate aimlessly down the hall and bump into every wall on the way.

Once they reach Kitayama’s bed, Kitayama takes over and Fujigaya’s back hits the mattress, Kitayama’s weight covering his body and rocking against him pointedly. Fujigaya’s legs automatically wrap around his waist, making his intent perfectly clear, which is wholly understood by Kitayama if the way he growls into Fujigaya’s mouth is any indication.

“Taisuke—” Kitayama starts, and Fujigaya kisses him harder.

“Don’t,” Fujigaya hisses. “Don’t speak, just touch me.”

Surprisingly Kitayama listens, kissing back full force as he follows directions and runs his hands all over Fujigaya’s body. They drop to the backs of Fujigaya’s thighs, which tense under his touch, and continue up his sides, bringing his shirt with them. Kitayama pulls back long enough to yank Fujigaya’s shirt over his head, followed by his own, and then those hands are on him directly, fingers exploring the muscles and contours of Fujigaya’s chest for the first time.

Fujigaya arches under the attention, moaning softly into their kiss because every brush of Kitayama’s fingers against his skin gives him a little spark of pleasure. His hips rock up against Kitayama pointedly, grinding them together, and Kitayama makes that low noise again as he pushes back, now completely hard against Fujigaya’s own erection.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya whispers, his hands sliding down to grope Kitayama’s ass through his pants. “Mitsu, I want you.”

And he does, the throbbing deep inside him intensifying just at the thought. He feels hands drifting down his chest and mumbles words of encouragement, pulling Kitayama even closer to him as he pushes up from below. Kitayama unfastens Fujigaya’s pants, lowering them enough to take his cock in hand and now Fujigaya’s moans are louder, grip tighter as Kitayama slowly strokes him, thumbing the precome at the head and driving him crazy.

Fujigaya rushes to catch up, nearly ripping open Kitayama’s pants to get to where he’s so hard for him. Kitayama gasps and thrusts into his hand, snapping his hips, and Fujigaya’s arousal grows even more at how much worked up Kitayama is.

“Do that inside me,” Fujigaya says, using his other hand to shove down his pants even more, at least until he’s halted by a firm grip on his wrist and whines.

“I really, really want to,” Kitayama says, his voice a rush of breaths, and Fujigaya hears the ‘but’ before it’s spoken. “But isn’t it the same thing? Whether you take me or I take you, I’m still giving myself to you.”

“ _Mitsu_.” Both of Fujigaya’s hands drop to his sides, his body jerking involuntarily as Kitayama keeps touching him. “Stop that, if we’re not going to do anything.”

“I didn’t say we can’t do anything,” Kitayama tells him, settling between Fujigaya’s legs to press closer to him, and Fujigaya arches at the feel of Kitayama’s cock rubbing against his. Kitayama takes them both in his hand, pushing them even closer together, and Fujigaya’s moan precedes his next breath. “Is this good?”

“It is,” Fujigaya replies, hips snapping up into the touch as the pressure accumulates within him. “It doesn’t do anything for how much I want you inside me, though.”

Kitayama shivers at the words, his other hand dropping to grab Fujigaya’s ass. “Didn’t you say you’d do it yourself?”

“I—” Fujigaya starts, interrupting himself with another uncontrollable moan as Kitayama’s movements get rougher. “I thought we were just talking dirty.”

“We were,” Kitayama says. “I meant what I said, though. Watching you do it would be really hot.”

“It would also make me want you more,” Fujigaya adds, a bit regretfully.

“Good,” Kitayama replies bluntly. “Because if you wanted me as much as I want you right now, you wouldn’t make me wait any longer.” Fujigaya groans and squirms, all the harder when Kitayama puts hands on both of Fujigaya’s knees and pushes them outwards. “Come on, Taisuke, let me see you.”

Legs spread so that Kitayama can see the most intimate part of him, Fujigaya can’t help but roll his hips against nothing, heat flooding his veins half from lust and half from embarrassment. He wraps a hand around his cock and pushes into his own touch, groaning in frustration because his own touch isn’t what he wants at all.

“Mm, cute,” Kitayama praises. He reaches down like he can’t help himself, rubbing his thumb over Fujigaya’s hole, but he pulls his hand back as soon as Fujigaya pushes up against it. Fujigaya whines, and Kitayama’s eyes get even darker as he slides back, out of reach. “Show me. I want to see how you touch yourself.”

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya gasps, the hand on his cock tightening. He brings his other hand down to roll his own balls a second, then lower, teasing at his rim. “I don’t…do this to myself that often…” It’s true, the angle’s awkward and all it does is make Fujigaya want more, but Kitayama looks entirely too interested in that information.

“Oh really?” Kitayama’s grin is sharp as he leans back and makes himself comfortable, eyes fixed between Fujigaya’s legs and wrapping a hand around his own cock. He strokes slowly from base to tip, so slowly that it can’t be anything more than a tease, clearly not in any hurry. “Then, just for me? Put the first one in.”

Fujigaya pulls himself together enough to hunt up the lube from Kitayama’s bedside table, raising an eyebrow at how it’s more than halfway rolled up already as he slicks his fingers, rubbing them together to warm the gel up. “You use this on yourself, right? Seems like you like that, maybe I should be asking to watch you.”

Kitayama’s low, heated chuckle makes Fujigaya’s arms goosebump. “Sometimes, yeah. My fingers aren’t long enough to get what I need, though, not like yours.” Kitayama pauses as Fujigaya can’t help but imagine sliding fingers into Kitayama, Kitayama writhing underneath him and moaning his name. It makes his cock twitch and he squeezes it tightly, shivering. “Give me a good show and maybe I’ll show you. You want to see that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fujigaya pushes the first finger in without much work at all, his body pressing up into the touch, desperate for something, anything, even if he’s doing it himself.

“Just like that,” Kitayama encourages, stroking himself a little faster. “You’re totally desperate for it, aren’t you? More, do another.”

Fujigaya pulls his finger nearly the whole way out and pushes back in with two, legs spreading automatically as he plants his heels and rocks into his own touch. It takes a little more work but the pleasure of it is still outweighing the stretch, the low throb of want inside him growing stronger with every touch. Kitayama keeps talking, making the throb even worse, his voice seeming to rub all over Fujigaya’s skin in an intimate caress, making Fujigaya burn even hotter, even more desperate.

The third finger is even more work, Fujigaya’s wrist starting to tire and his body frustrated with how he can’t quite press against the spot he wants until he curls up a little, his abs getting an unusually deep workout. It’s hard to concentrate on both things at once as well, both jerking himself off in the rhythm he likes and keeping his fingers moving in and out.

“Please,” he finally begs brokenly. “Please touch me? I want you so much, Mitsu, please, even just your fingers, anything.”

“God, you’re so pretty when you beg,” Kitayama growls, letting go of his cock and crawling back across the small space separating them. He wraps fingers around Fujigaya’s wrist and pulls it away; Fujigaya’s body clenches at the air as his fingers slide out, and Kitayama drinks in the sight with greedy eyes. He reaches down to cup Fujigaya’s ass, using his thumbs to spread Fujigaya open even wider. “You want me that bad?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fujigaya sobs, nearly in tears from frustration. “Fuck, do something, _please_.”

Kitayama pushes in with two fingers, the touch quick and a little rough, and Fujigaya thrashes against him, desperate, already so much better than he could manage himself. He begs for more and Kitayama gives it to him, working in fingers deeply enough to finally get them where Fujigaya wants them.

“There!” Fujigaya squeezes tight around Kitayama’s fingers, trying to hold them in place, Kitayama’s long groan making him whine in response. He concentrates on jerking himself off, getting close. “Just like that, I’m so close.”

“Yeah? Show me.” Kitayama curls his fingers and Fujigaya shudders head to toe. “I want to see you lose it, so come for me already.”

Fujigaya does, his orgasm sweeping through him like fire, and dimly he feels his release splatter nearly the whole way up his chest as he shivers and twists with aftershocks.

“Happy?” he asks when he can get the breath to do so. His eyes are still shut, so he grunts in surprise when Kitayama’s weight falls on top of him heavily.

“Touch me too,” Kitayama says, voice near enough Fujigaya’s ear that his warm breath makes Fujigaya shiver. Fujigaya navigates by touch, drifting over Kitayama’s ass before his fingers find their way between his cheeks. He teases at Kitayama’s rim a few seconds, the skin feeling odd and interesting under his fingertip, before Kitayama flexes his hips and growls for him to get on with it.

“You’re so hot inside,” Fujigaya says as Kitayama starts to rock back against his finger, rubbing his cock off against Fujigaya’s stomach. “So tight, mm. Have you really done it this way before?”

“Been a long time,” Kitayama admits, and Fujigaya likes the sound of that, likes the idea of Kitayama’s body welcoming him and nobody else inside of it. “Yeah, like that. Go harder, show me what you’re gonna to do me.”

“Fuck,” Fujigaya groans at Kitayama’s filthy mouth, loving it almost as much as the squeeze of Kitayama’s ass around his fingers. It’s not hard to imagine it around his cock instead, and he twitches, too soon to get hard again but entirely interested. He works Kitayama more purposely, looking for the right spot to send Kitayama over the edge.

When he finds it, Kitayama jerks against him, thrusting against his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut. It isn’t long after that that he spills hot between them, clenching tightly around Fujigaya’s fingers. They curl up in a lazy knot afterwards, no chance of Fujigaya dislodging Kitayama’s heavy weight, but it feels good anyway, the heat pouring off of Kitayama’s skin relaxing all of Fujigaya’s muscles, the weight of his presence reassuring.

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” Fujigaya murmurs when he’s sure Kitayama is asleep or close enough. He drags a gentle hand through Kitayama’s hair, making him sigh softly in his sleep. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Time flies when you’re busy, and all too soon it’s time to start putting together a tour. They’re all thrilled about it, tossing out ideas and butting heads like usual, and even the arguments are light-hearted because nothing really matters as long as they get to tour. Fujigaya supposes they’re still new enough (since debut, anyway) that they still get ridiculously excited about lives, particularly the younger ones. Ages aside, he hopes they never grow out of it.

As the kick-off date gets nearer, though, Kitayama gets exceptionally crabbier. Fujigaya keeps trying to get him to talk, but Kitayama just shrugs him off and says he’s stressed. Preparations take into the wee hours of the morning, so Fujigaya doesn’t put up much of a fight when Kitayama doesn’t invite him to sleep over, even if that’s probably all they’d be doing.

“You didn’t knock him up, did you?” Yokoo hisses after Kitayama sulks away yet again.

“Stupid,” Fujigaya replies, and Yokoo laughs. “We’re not even doing that yet.”

“What? Seriously?” Yokoo asks, laughter dying as he turns to face Fujigaya. “You’ve been together for like three months.”

Fujigaya blinks. “Has it actually been that long?”

“You are the worst boyfriend ever,” Tamamori comments from nearby.

“I’d be crabby too if I wasn’t getting any,” Yokoo says, and Fujigaya doesn’t look at either one of them. “Any particular reason, Taisuke?”

“That’s between us,” Fujigaya tells them. “Kindly get out of my business, please.”

“It’s becoming our business when the atmosphere is tense because of you two,” Yokoo tells him gently.

“It’s not my fault he’s being a bitch,” Fujigaya says. “If it had something to do with me, he’d tell me.”

“I’m really fucking glad you have no problem talking to other people about this,” Kitayama’s voice sounds from the side, and Fujigaya squeezes his eyes shut. “At least have the decency to make sure I’m not around first.”

“What the hell,” Fujigaya says, losing his patience as he spins around to face a very angry Kitayama. “Is it really about me? Tell me what I did so I can fix it, fuck. I thought I was done with this passive-aggressive shit when I stopped dating gi—”

He’s cut off by a hand connecting with his face, more of a punch than a slap, but without the force to knock him back. Slowly he brings his own hand to his cheek, which stings like a motherfucker, and gapes at the man who had just hit him.

“You deserved that,” Kitayama tells him, shaking his wrist, “because you won’t fix it. We’re leaving for Nagoya in three fucking days and while you can stand here and discuss our shit with these guys just fine, you still haven’t told your family about me.”

Someone gasps dramatically; Fujigaya’s betting it’s Tamamori. “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” he shoots back, “but I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to do much of anything.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’ll be busy for three months,” Kitayama says. “ _Three months_ , Taisuke. Unless you plan on telling them over the phone, that’s three more months you’re making me wait.”

“You’re the one making me wait!” Fujigaya exclaims, ignoring the confused looks on the others’ faces. “That was your ultimatum, not mine. If it was up to me, we’d be doing it already and we wouldn’t be fighting right now!”

“You still say it like an immature child.” Kitayama sighs. “Whatever, I don’t care. I should have known better than to expect you to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously!” Fujigaya’s yelling now, hoping the staff-san have already left for the evening because he can’t actually lower his voice. “I’m sorry if I’m terrified of being disowned from my family! Not everyone is as understanding as your mother!”

“You should have thought about that before you led me on,” Kitayama growls. “ _Again_.”

Fujigaya just stares at him, because ‘again’ implies years ago when they’d messed around before and Fujigaya had thought he was the only one who had felt too much back then. But he wasn’t about to bring that up in front of everyone. “Can we please talk about this later?”

“Later I will be sleeping,” Kitayama says, yawning for effect. “Goddamn, fighting is tiring.”

“Are you two done?” Yokoo asks testily, and Fujigaya turns to him with guilty eyes. “Work out your shit on your own time, okay?”

They both mumble in affirmation and all seven of them get back to work. Surprisingly the atmosphere is much less tense; Fujigaya’s reminded of how it was before he’d confessed, minus the painful crush he had the entire time. It’s almost more pleasant this way; Kitayama isn’t mean to him at all, though he’s not affectionate either. Up until now, he didn’t realize it was possible for someone to smile while being so cold.

At the end of the night they part with no words, and Fujigaya’s pretty sure the only reason he falls right to sleep is because of his exhaustion. It’s entirely too early when his alarm goes off, but he trudges down the stairs and plops down at the breakfast table like a true trooper, grateful for his mother who fusses over him and fixes his hair while shoving food in front of him.

Fujigaya doesn’t actually open both eyes until the doorbell rings, which is when he notices that his entire family is eating breakfast together. His father and Yuusuke look like they’re off to their respective jobs while Ryosuke probably just has early plans, and of course there is his mother who takes care of her men with no complaints.

“No, I don’t want to interrupt—” sounds a low voice from the genkan, and Fujigaya pauses mid-chew as he would recognize it anywhere.

“I won’t hear of that,” Fujigaya’s mother says to the newcomer. “You came all the way over here and you will eat with us. There’s a seat right next to Taisuke.”

Fujigaya tries not to look too surprised when Kitayama bows his head at them all and sits down in the chair next to him. He’s so close yet so far away, the blow-up from yesterday separating them with a cloud of thick tension, which Yuusuke seems to suspect judging by the strange look he’s giving Fujigaya. Fujigaya just greets Kitayama like normal and goes back to eating while the rest of them do the same.

Fujigaya’s mother makes conversation, asking after Kitayama’s mother and how their tour preparations are coming, and Kitayama answers her in between fawning over her cooking. Fujigaya’s father jumps to add to the compliment, and Fujigaya watches him carefully. At least he doesn’t hate Kitayama. Though he may if he knew what Kitayama was doing with his oldest son.

Ryosuke, oblivious to the tension at the table, starts spouting off about a new brand of clothing his girlfriend’s been going on and on about, and Fujigaya sleepily recommends it. Naturally Ryosuke calls him Tai- _nee_ chan and Fujigaya reminds him that this designer is mostly known for men’s clothes, and respect your older brother, brat.

“Seriously, though,” he goes on, feeling more awake and happier now that he’s discussing one of his favorite topics. “I love their clothes. They’re _so_ comfortable. And their pants fit so well. I _love_ their jeans, too.”

“That’s a lot of love,” Yuusuke teases, though there’s a pointed look in his eye. “If you use up all your love on material things, how will you have any left for another person?”

“Stupid,” Fujigaya barks at him. “It’s two different things. I’m not _in love_ with them like I am with Mitsu.”

The sound of chopsticks hitting a plate sounds from next to him, and Fujigaya realizes what he’d just said five seconds too late. He looks right to his father, who blinks at him in confusion. “Mitsu?” he repeats. “I didn’t know you were even seeing anyone, Taisuke, let alone that seriously. Who is she?”

“Dear,” Fujigaya’s mom says gently, patting her husband on the wrist. Fujigaya catches her eye and the warm look she gives him is the only thing that keeps him from bolting out of the room and as far away as possible.

“What?” his father asks. “Am I missing something here?”

“This is Mitsu,” Fujigaya says clearly, thumbing over to Kitayama. He can’t quite look at him yet, not like this.

His father looks at Kitayama and then back to Fujigaya. “I don’t get it.”

Fujigaya almost laughs, because it’s basically the same reaction Kitayama had when he’d confessed. He’s not about to kiss Kitayama at the breakfast table to prove his point, though, so he just clears his throat and looks his father in the eye. “It’s not a joke, Dad. We’ve been together for a couple months now.”

His mother’s face lights up, clearly pleased, but the grip she has on her husband’s arm tightens. Fujigaya braces himself for the worst case scenario, wondering if it’s too soon to move in with Kitayama if he gets kicked out of his house, but to his surprise his father just widens his eyes in recognition, grunts noncommittally, and returns to his breakfast.

Fujigaya lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, one deep enough to leave him light-headed as he remembers his brothers. Specifically the youngest one, since Yuusuke looks so smug that Fujigaya would kick him under the table if he hadn’t been the one who set him up to slip to begin with. Ryosuke seems disinterested in anything that doesn’t involve him stuffing his face, though he catches Fujigaya’s eye when he goes to take his dishes to the sink.

“What?” he asks. “I don’t give a crap what you do. Or who you do.”

It’s Yuusuke who snorts at that, and Fujigaya cringes as he finally turns to face Kitayama. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t to be nearly knocked backwards by the look in Kitayama’s eyes, one that he can’t actually describe with words, but feels all the way down to his bones.

“Kitayama-kun,” Fujigaya’s father starts, and they both turn to look at him. Fujigaya wishes he could grab onto Kitayama’s hand for support, but both of them are on the table and Fujigaya doesn’t have enough nerve to do that in front of his family. “Thank you for taking care of my son.”

“It’s not an easy job,” Kitayama says after a second, smiling faintly. “But I’m satisfied with it.”

Fujigaya’s father nods, glancing at his wife out of the corner of his eye as if he understands that sentiment thoroughly. Fujigaya’s mother lets go of his arm to whack him in the shoulder.

Kitayama tries to help clean up when they’re finished, but Fujigaya’s mother shoos the two of them off to Fujigaya’s room.

“You look like you need to talk. Privately,” she adds, giving Yuusuke a significant look. Caught blatantly loitering around to eavesdrop, Yuusuke gives a little “che” and saunters off checking his phone as if he’d meant to do that the whole time. Fujigaya-san turns back to Fujigaya. “Don’t fight, it’s bad for your complexion.”

“Mo-om,” Fujigaya whines, but he gives his mother a quick hug on impulse, and his throat closes up a little when she whispers in his ear that she’s proud of him.

Upstairs Kitayama flops immediately into Fujigaya’s unmade bed, and if it were anybody else Fujigaya would think that he was going right for the sex they should have been having this entire time. But it’s Kitayama, and he knows better.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he says. “I’ll just go to work and leave your ass right there.”

Kitayama rolls over enough that his face isn’t buried in the pillow. “Where it belongs?”

“Honestly,” Fujigaya grumbles, cheeks going a little pink. He sits down on the edge of his bed, even though it’s a terrible idea because all he wants is to crawl under the covers for the whole day. “What did you come over for?”

Kitayama shrugs. “To talk about yesterday. I didn’t mean to force you like that.”

“It turned out okay.” Fujigaya forgives him easily, still a bit high on relief that there wasn’t a huge scene.

“I shouldn’t have said all that,” Kitayama continues, looking uncomfortable. Fujigaya reaches over to smooth Kitayama’s hair back, wanting the reassurance of contact. Kitayama’s eyes flutter shut. “I shouldn’t have accused you of not being serious.”

“You said ‘again,’” Fujigaya points out, remembering suddenly. “I didn’t know the first time meant anything to you. I thought I was the only one who…” He trails off, not even sure what those feelings would have been if he hadn’t squashed them back down so early. “I thought I was just…you know, there. I didn’t think it meant anything to you.”

“Surprise,” Kitayama says. He shifts over enough that his cheek is resting on Fujigaya’s thigh, and Fujigaya runs fingers through his hair with more purpose.

“Are we done fighting?” Fujigaya asks, wanting to be sure. “I want to be done.”

Kitayama doesn’t answer, but he reaches up to grab Fujigaya’s hand with his own and twine their fingers together, squeezing hard. “I’m ready for kiss and make up if you are.”

“Hey, wait!” Fujigaya protests as Kitayama uses their joined hands to yank Fujigaya down next to him. “It’s already–” Kitayama covers Fujigaya’s mouth with his own, swallowing all his warnings about what time it is and the dangers of crawling back in bed. Fujigaya only struggles for a second longer before giving in, curling arms around Kitayama’s neck and dragging fingers through his hair until Kitayama is purring into his mouth.

They’re entirely late for work, having to slink into the meeting that should have started twenty minutes ago (only everybody knows better than to have a meeting with Tamamori as only frontman present), but the others seem to care less about that when it’s clear just by looking at them that they’ve made up.

“Cut it a little closer, can’t you?” Yokoo scolds them after the meeting’s over. “Tour’s not in two days or anything. Also, don’t think for a second that I’m switching rooms and getting stuck with the idiot combi.”

“Are you guys gonna be all gross for the whole tour?” Nikaido asks with narrow eyes, speak of the devil, and Fujigaya opens his mouth to tell him just who is gross where when Tamamori interrupts to ask if this means bathtime is off, frowning like this has just occurred to him.

“Leave them alone, shoo,” Miyata says, Senga helping him herd the others away. “They just made up, don’t get them started on us.”

“Let me stay over tonight,” Fujigaya says when the others are out of earshot. He adds a sheepish “Please” when Kitayama raises an eyebrow.

“Right before first weekend of tour?” Kitayama asks, over-casual. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“I can’t wait anymore,” Fujigaya says, even just getting through work today seeming like it’ll take a thousand years too long. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to make you beg,” Kitayama says, grinning, and really, this day just could not get any longer.

Wrapping up the end of the tour preparations seems to just add to the high Fujigaya already feels from this morning’s events. Not only has a huge weight been lifted off of his shoulder, he’s fueled with adrenaline for the upcoming shows and travelling to different parts of the country again. It’ll be different this time, now that he and Kitayama are _something_ , visiting the tourist attractions and eating local food together in a much different way than the last time they were there.

“You look exceptionally happy today,” Yokoo comments to Fujigaya when they break for lunch, holding up his hand to halt Fujigaya when he goes to open his mouth. “I don’t need all of the details.”

“I told my family this morning,” Fujigaya says, and Yokoo’s eyes widen. “It was an accident, but I still told them and it seems to be okay.”

“Oh, Taisuke.” Yokoo grabs him by the arms and pulls him into a tight hug; Fujigaya hadn’t known how much he needed a strong, friendly hug until this moment. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, none of that,” Tamamori calls over, nudging Fujigaya’s shoulder in a feeble attempt to push them apart. “The last thing we need is Kitamitsu going all psycho bitch on you.”

Kitayama peeks open one eye from where he’s laying across three uncomfortable folding chairs for a nap. “I thought we had a tour clause. I mean, remember who I’m rooming with.”

“What?!” Fujigaya exclaims, ducking out of Yokoo’s embrace to give Kitayama an incredulous look mixed with a little bit of rage. Or a lot, being as his hands are shaking fists at his sides.

“I’m _kidding_ ,” Kitayama says, gaping a little at Fujigaya’s reaction. “God _damn_ you’re hot when you’re jealous.”

Fujigaya feels heat flood his face as his anger quickly transforms into a different kind of tension. “Don’t say things like that in front of everyone,” he mutters.

“This is the best drama I’ve ever seen,” Senga stage-whispers from where he and Nikaido are both watching the scene in rapt attention, passing a bag of candy between them.

Nikaido snickers. “Is this the one where he stops the concert to profess his love at the end?”

“ _Spoilers_!” Senga hisses back.

“Eat real food,” Kitayama snaps at them, but he’s hiding a smile.

The rest of the day goes very smoothly, despite the difficulty level of their work. They can only rehearse so much without a venue, so it’s mostly perfecting dance routines and finalizing costume decisions. All seven of them are in top form, only a few mistakes leading to repeats and in one instance a reformation, so it’s actually early enough to still be considered evening when they’re finally done.

“I’d say let’s go out eat, but…” Yokoo trails off pointedly, glancing toward Fujigaya and Kitayama, and Fujigaya rolls his eyes.

“We can go out to eat, geez,” Fujigaya tells him.

Kitayama nudges him in the side. “Answering for both of us now?”

“When it involves food, I’m confident of your priorities,” Fujigaya tells him, and Kitayama snorts.

They end up splitting up anyway, Tamamori claiming exhaustion and a few of the others wanting to actually see their family members during normal waking hours before they’re busy for three months. It’s not without unsolicited advice, though, and Fujigaya could have lived without getting tips on how to keep from being sore the next day from the baby of their group.

“Doesn’t it bother you that _everyone_ knows what we’re going to be doing?” Fujigaya mutters as they hop the train back to Kitayama’s place.

“Not really,” Kitayama says with a shrug. “I’m more focused on the fact that it will be happening.”

The train isn’t that crowded, but fangirl eyes can be anywhere and Fujigaya leans over under the pretense of stretching. “I cannot _wait_ to be inside you.”

He’s pretty sure Kitayama shivers, followed by a sharp elbow to the ribs. “I still have to dance tomorrow.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Fujigaya whispers, not even anywhere close to Kitayama’s ear this time, yet he still shivers again.

After the longest train ride in existence, they arrive at Kitayama’s apartment and kick off their shoes. Fujigaya prepares himself to become one with a wall, but Kitayama just disappears down the hallway without a word. Curiously Fujigaya follows him, then smiles when he hears water running from the bathtub. It’s even better when he reaches the bathroom, where Kitayama’s bent over testing the water temperature, and Fujigaya doesn’t think twice before stepping up to him and grabbing him by both hips.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gasps with a small jerk of surprise, but then he’s straightening up and leaning back into Fujigaya’s embrace. “Take a bath with me?”

“Of course,” Fujigaya answers, pressing his lips to the skin just behind Kitayama’s ear. Kitayama shudders in his arms and Fujigaya can feel how badly he wants it, how badly he wants _him_. “For washing reasons or foreplay reasons?”

“Both,” Kitayama answers as he reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt. Fujigaya swats his hands out of his way and grabs it himself, peeling it up Kitayama’s chest and arms and flinging it behind him before running his fingers through the thin layer of sweat that coats Kitayama’s skin on the way down to his waist.

Kitayama arches and leans back enough to press his mouth to Fujigaya’s throat, leading Fujigaya to turn his head enough to kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, tongues gradually tangling together as Fujigaya unfastens Kitayama’s pants and shoves them down, followed by his boxers. Blindly Kitayama steps out of the clothes and turns around, ending the strains on both of their necks as their kiss grows in passion and now Kitayama’s the one undressing Fujigaya.

The water is ready by the time they are, both settling into the tub at the same time like they can’t break contact with each other long enough to get in separately. It’s clearly a tub meant for one person but they fit well enough, Fujigaya leaning back against Kitayama who instantly takes a soapy washcloth to Fujigaya’s back. He uses a little bit of pressure and it feels nice, pulling a low noise from his throat that has Kitayama kissing the back of his neck where he’d just cleaned.

The hot water feels amazing after such a long day, his muscles relaxing while the heat between them grows. Fujigaya washes Kitayama’s back next, though he’s playing more than washing once he learns that Kitayama’s ticklish along his sides. Each squirm presses him back against Fujigaya, whose body is well aware of Kitayama’s close proximity and all of the touching that goes along with washing each other, and the next time Kitayama leans back, he’s bumping something hard.

“Mm,” he says, tilting his head to the opposite side when Fujigaya starts to mouth his neck. “Are we clean yet?”

“Not yet,” Fujigaya replies, pressing the words into Kitayama’s wet skin as he brings the washcloth down Kitayama’s arms and chest. The rough material has him gasping, jerking when Fujigaya runs it over his nipples and then down to his thighs. He makes it to where Kitayama is just as hard before Kitayama snatches the washcloth away, leaving Fujigaya with just his hand to touch him.

That doesn’t stop him, now drifting his fingers up the insides of Kitayama’s thighs and along the length of his cock. He lowers his hand to cup Kitayama’s balls, feeling how tight they are and rubbing gently as Kitayama lets out a deep groan right into his ear, followed by a filthy command to go lower.

Fujigaya complies, circling the rim with his fingertip while Kitayama jerks endlessly in his arms, then Kitayama leans up enough to grab something from the basket behind the toilet with the decorative soaps that had undoubtedly been a housewarming present from his mother (or Yokoo).

“You actually keep waterproof lube in your bathroom?” Fujigaya teases.

“Where else would I keep it?” Kitayama shoots back, shoving the tube into Fujigaya’s hand. “Come on, Taisuke.”

“Are we going to do it in here?” Fujigaya asks, then frowns at his wording. “I mean, do you want me to take you in here?”

“No,” Kitayama answers, arching as Fujigaya slips slick fingers between his thighs. “Just this. I don’t want to rush.”

“Don’t worry,” Fujigaya whispers into his jaw. “I won’t let you hurt tomorrow.”

“It’s not just that.” Kitayama chokes on his breath as Fujigaya swirls a finger inside him. “We already waited so long, and we may not have a chance for any more than a quickie on tour, so we should take our time tonight.”

“How hopelessly romantic of you,” Fujigaya teases. “Shouldn’t you put on X-Japan and light some candles or something?”

“You mean the ones you gave me for my birthday?” Kitayama counters. “And if I was going to put on any kind of mood music, it’d be Acid Black Cherry.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but then thunderous bass sounds from elsewhere in the building, nearly shaking the water from the force.

“Ah, my neighbors are home,” says Kitayama. “At least I won’t feel bad if we’re loud now.”

The beat is nice, Fujigaya thinks as he fingers Kitayama in time with it. “This works, too.”

It must work for Kitayama too, because all he does is moan as he lay his head back on Fujigaya’s shoulder and rocks down against his fingers like a body wave. It’s easy to stretch him like this, adjusting his inner muscles to the width of Fujigaya’s fingers that grow in number until there are three of them and Kitayama’s whimpering with every breath. His body clenches with each brush of that spot Fujigaya had found last time, and he can’t stop himself from rubbing against Kitayama’s back as he imagines how that will feel around his cock.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama groans, clearly about to change his mind about where he wants to do this. Fujigaya’s fingers are starting to get pruney though, and while that might feel amazing on Kitayama’s end, he’s ready to move to a spot where he’ll have more leverage.

“Come on,” Fujigaya says, pulling his fingers free. The growl Kitayama gives at the loss is meant to be threatening but instead is a little bit desperate and a lot hot. “Time to relocate.”

He manages to heft both of them to their feet without either one of them slipping and cracking their skulls, and grabs for two of Kitayama’s towels. Fujigaya has to bite his lip to keep from whimpering in pleasure at the brush of the soft material against his over-sensitized skin. Kitayama has no such compunction, making noises that border on obscene, and Fujigaya has to hustle them out of there before he bends Kitayama over the sink right there and takes him just like that.

Kitayama flops onto the bed as soon as it’s within reach, arms and legs spread wide in invitation. “Hurry up and get over here,” he says, and Fujigaya doesn’t need any more encouragement to cover Kitayama’s body with his own, skin sliding against his all the way down. He fits between Kitayama’s thighs like he belongs there, rocking down at the same time as Kitayama rocks up on the very first try, like a symmetry dance they’ve been practicing for ten years.

They _have_ been practicing it for ten years, Fujigaya thinks, and then starts laughing and can’t stop, pressing his face into the curve of Kitayama’s neck.

“What the hell?” Kitayama wants to know, dragging fingers down Fujigaya’s back, but all Fujigaya can do is shake with giggles.

“Symmetry,” he finally manages to explain. “All these years of symmetry choreo…”

“Oh, fuck you,” Kitayama groans when he gets it, and he digs his fingers into Fujigaya’s lower back hard enough to make him squirm. “Now this is all I’m going to think of every fucking time we talk about symmetry.”

“At least we’re finally even.” Fujigaya pushes up on his elbows to look at Kitayama’s face properly, grinning at the amusement and want that’s covered by his fake expression of annoyance. “And I think you mean, fuck _you_.”

“Would you please? I mean, come _on_ already,” Kitayama says, spreading his legs even further and rubbing up against Fujigaya’s cock like if he tries hard enough it’ll work its way in there on its own. His impatience makes Fujigaya’s nerves crackle, and not that he doesn’t want it too, wants it _so much_ , but he doesn’t want to give up this beautiful, desperate Kitayama underneath him either, doesn’t want Kitayama to stop telling him how much he wants it just yet.

“Tell me how much you want me,” Fujigaya orders, kissing and nipping at the skin just under Kitayama’s jaw. Kitayama tilts his head to the side for more, shivering when Fujigaya starts working his way down Kitayama’s neck.

“I’ve been waiting so long for you,” Kitayama says, kneading Fujigaya’s lower back with his fingers like he can’t keep his hands still. “I want you inside me so much it’s killing me, no matter what else I try, it’s just you I want.”

“You tried other things?” Fujigaya asks, blood racing at the thought, Kitayama touching himself, squirming in frustration. “Did you use your fingers? A toy? Mm, tell me.”

“Yeah,” Kitayama answers to both, and Fujigaya’s cock throbs at the whole idea of it. “But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t you. Fuck, Taisuke, you’re leaking all over me, are you even gonna make it inside of me? I swear to god, I’ll kill you if you just get off listening to me talk.”

“Later,” Fujigaya gasps, “I want to see you do it to yourself, want to hear you. I want _everything_.”

“Anything,” Kitayama promises, “if you put your dick inside me _right now_.”

Fujigaya pushes away, up onto his knees, both of them whining at the loss of heat and contact, and Fujigaya’s hands are shaking as he fumbles for the condoms and lube he knows are in Kitayama’s side table. Kitayama reaches to help when he takes longer than two seconds, but Fujigaya bats his hands away, honestly concerned a few strokes from Kitayama’s strong, warm hands is all it’s going to take.

“Ready?” Fujigaya asks as he fists a lube-slick hand over his cock, then reaches to slip two fingers inside Kitayama, just making sure he’s ready and slick enough still. They slip in easily before Kitayama squeezes tight around them, swearing a blue streak that uses Fujigaya’s name as the dirtiest word of all.

Not that it’s anything compared to what comes out of his mouth when Fujigaya actually starts pushing in.

“More, fuck, more,” Kitayama demands right away, wrapping legs around Fujigaya’s waist and putting all his soccer and dance muscles into fucking Fujigaya into himself. “Shit you feel good, want you deeper, Taisuke…”

“Quit saying my name like that or I’m going to come like a fucking teenager,” Fujigaya groans, even though what he actually wants is for Kitayama to never stop saying his name, wants to fuck Kitayama deep and hard enough that all Kitayama can do is chant his name over and over. His thighs hit the back of Kitayama’s, as deep as he can go, and he leans into it, trying to get even deeper. “How’s that? This what you wanted?”

“Perfect,” Kitayama arches his back, fingers twisted in the sheets, “so much better than fucking myself, fuck, come on, do me already, deep like that.”

He could probably get deeper if he flipped Kitayama over, but Fujigaya can’t stop watching his face as he starts a slow roll of his hips, fucking Kitayama as deeply as he can, taking it slow to draw it out. Kitayama’s eyelids are heavy and his eyes fever-bright, his skin flushed and a sweat breaking out across his forehead and down his chest. Fujigaya leans down, his back protesting the stretch of it, but he just barely manages to flick his tongue over Kitayama’s collarbone and taste the salt of his skin.

“Fuck!” Kitayama shudders underneath him. He lets go of the blankets with one hand to fist it in Fujigaya’s hair instead, fingers tight enough that it stings the back of Fujigaya’s scalp and makes him jerk inside Kitayama in surprise. He’s so turned on it feels good, though, everything does, and when he grabs Kitayama’s hips and digs his nails in a little, Kitayama gives an answering moan that really does rival his neighbor’s thumping bass.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya gasps, his rhythm faltering as his coherence fades, and Kitayama grabs onto his arm with the hand that’s not intent on pulling his hair out of his head. “Mitsu, you feel so good, I love you so much.”

That last part just slips out unintentionally, but Kitayama’s grip on him softens by the time Fujigaya realizes it. A hand cups his face and lifts it up, stretching his neck a bit to reach Kitayama’s mouth but it’s worth it when they’re kissing, the touch of their tongues making Fujigaya snap his hips harder.

“I love you, too,” Kitayama breathes against his lips. “Now fuck me faster already.”

“I’ll finish if I do that,” Fujigaya says apologetically, his mind clouded by emotions he’s not used to feeling during sex. They make him want to be closer, take it slower, breathing all of Kitayama in with each breath.

Kitayama’s response is preceded by his muscles clenching around Fujigaya as he takes his cock in hand. “Wait for me. I want to feel you pounding into me as I get myself off.”

Fujigaya groans at that, falling from Kitayama’s mouth as the latter throws his head back and arches beneath him. The noises that spill from his lips are deep and insistent, grunts that gradually increase in volume as he strokes himself in time with Fujigaya’s thrusts. Fujigaya leans his forehead on Kitayama’s shoulder and lifts his torso enough to look down, watching Kitayama’s fist fly up and down his length, which has him speeding up in spite of himself.

“Just like that,” Kitayama gasps, followed by a short laugh that’s pressed right into Fujigaya’s damp hair. “You want to watch that badly?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fujigaya says shamelessly, his breath catching in his throat as he reaches his limit. “Mitsu, I can’t hold back much longer.”

“Just a little more…” Kitayama says, his words followed by a series of moans that grow louder with each hard pump of his cock. “Fuck, Taisuke, _now_.”

Kitayama’s body is already clamping around him before the first spurt of fluid between them, which is all Fujigaya sees before he squeezes his eyes shut and explodes. Something like a growl tears from his lungs and Kitayama is gripping his arm with his free hand, the only thing keeping him grounded as he’s taken over by spasms and unintelligible noises.

He’s still jerking when Kitayama stretches out beneath him, gingerly enough that Fujigaya forces his eyes open in concern, but Kitayama’s face is nothing but content. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice refusing to work past a whisper.

Kitayama nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll try some of Senga’s suggestions before we go to sleep.”

Fujigaya makes a face. “Can we not talk about that while I’m still inside you.”

“Mm,” Kitayama says, completely missing the point as he wraps both arms around Fujigaya’s middle. “You can stay there as long as you want.”

That’s a good thing, because Fujigaya’s in no rush to move. Staying where he is gives him little aftershocks, which has him returning to Kitayama’s mouth to ride out the feeling.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama murmurs, his voice breathy and deep. “I’m really glad you confessed to me.”

Fujigaya can’t stop the stupid grin that spreads on his face, not even bothering to try. “Me too.”

He curls up on top of Kitayama, who’s already mostly asleep, and the sounds of their hearts beating together completely drown out the neighbor’s bass.

Touring isn’t nearly as brutal as he’d expected, especially since they’re both so focused on putting on a good show that they’re uncharacteristically responsible about their decisions. That is, they’ll curl up together for a nap between rehearsals instead of sneaking into a somewhat private area. They join the others on excursions in the cities they visit and it feels like the first time Fujigaya’s experiencing them all over again.

“Are you and Kitamitsu still together?” Senga hisses at him after they visit a shrine. “You two are just walking next to each other like before, when you barely spoke.”

“We can’t very well hold hands in public, now can we?” Fujigaya replies, but he’s smiling. “Thank you for the concern, but we’re fine. Just having him by my side is enough.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” Kitayama says from behind him, and Fujigaya jumps as he turns to see a smug look on that face he’s come to adore. “I’ll be sad if you ever stop talking about me where I can hear you. It’s the only time you’re cute about us.”

“Maybe I wanted you to hear it,” Fujigaya grumbles, but Kitayama doesn’t buy it judging by the way he nudges Fujigaya’s arm with his elbow. “And that’s not the _only_ time.”

“Virgin ears!” Senga exclaims, and Fujigaya bursts out laughing because yeah right. Though he hasn’t had much of a chance to ‘be cute’ in that meaning since they left Tokyo, what with all of the travelling and room assignments. The closest he’s gotten is Kitayama falling asleep on his shoulder on the plane with their laced hands covered by a blanket.

Even performing feels different, though it’s still irritating to fanservice with Kitayama just to rile up the fans. It’s not like he has to do much more than hiproll near him; even just meeting his eyes while they sing is enough. If only they knew, he tells himself as they dance together in perfect symmetry city after city.

They’re huddled around a pair of yakiniku grills when Yokoo nudges Fujigaya. “I’ll stay with the brats tonight.”

“What?” Fujigaya replies, nearly knocking over his water in surprise; Kitayama reaches over from his other side to grab it without missing a beat. “Why?”

Yokoo smiles. “Because I’m a good friend.”

“We don’t have to—” Fujigaya starts.

“I know,” Yokoo cuts him off. “You two haven’t even tried to be alone this entire time. I’m concerned that the fire might be gone already.”

It’s Kitayama who laughs, an unattractive snort as he nearly chokes on his own water. “I can assure you, Watta, the fire has barely been lit. More like a slow burning.”

Yokoo makes a face at that, which gives Fujigaya a sense of justice. “Either way, I’m staying with Tama and Miyata tonight and that’s that. We don’t have a show tomorrow, so it’s not a big deal if they don’t let me sleep.”

“Yay!” Tamamori and Miyata exclaim from the other side of the table.

“If you insist,” Fujigaya tells him, and Kitayama’s already curling their fingers together under the table. It’s incredibly risky in the middle of a restaurant, but it makes Fujigaya realize the truth of Yokoo’s words and how much he craves more than just a short distance between them.

And that’s before they both stop by the bathroom on the way out and Kitayama sneaks in a kiss that leaves Fujigaya’s head spinning, blinking like he has no idea what’s going on when Kitayama’s mouth is gone just as quickly as it descended. He launches a counterattack in the elevator of the hotel that has them muffling snickers and dashing to Fujigaya’s room before anybody sees their pink cheeks and mussed hair.

The door is barely shut before Kitayama is on Fujigaya again, pulling him close by the shirt and pressing lips against Fujigaya’s neck.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, the vibration of the words tickling and making Fujigaya shiver under Kitayama’s hands. He tilts his head back, sighing when Kitayama kisses and licks at more of his throat, nibbling at his pulse point.

“How can you miss me when all staff ever does is shove us up against each other?” Fujigaya asks idly. He’s rocking up against Kitayama already, slow but steady, his skin warming up with anticipation.

Kitayama just gives him a look which says not to be an idiot, but the effect is ruined by how hot is it when he looks up at Fujigaya through his eyelashes like that. “Hey…you still want me?” He leans into Fujigaya a little harder, sliding hands down Fujigaya’s back until he can squeeze his ass, his hands hot even through the denim of Fujigaya’s jeans.

“Fuck yes,” Fujigaya agrees, relaxing into the touch, letting Kitayama push and pull him however he likes. “Always. And this time don’t hold back or I won’t forgive you.”

“Challenge accepted,” Kitayama says, then leans up to crush their mouths together, stealing all of Fujigaya’s air.

Despite Kitayama asking for control, they don’t make any progress until Fujigaya pushes Kitayama back from the door by the shoulders, away from him. Kitayama’s lips are starting to puff up and his eyes are dark, and Fujigaya hopes he looks half as good himself. Honestly, there’s plenty of appeal in just making out against the door like teenagers; it’s just that Fujigaya has better plans if he can get them horizontal.

“Bed,” he orders, spinning Kitayama around by the shoulders and giving him a shove. He follows, after taking a second to enjoy the view from behind. When he realizes Fujigaya isn’t following right away, Kitayama glances over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow like he knows what Fujigaya is thinking. He gives a little shake of his ass just for show, making Fujigaya laugh. “Careful, you’ll make me change my mind.”

“That is so not happening,” Kitayama informs him, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth yank. Fujigaya hums at the sight, running his eyes over Kitayama’s skin just as thoroughly as he’s going to touch him with his hands in a minute. Fujigaya can’t resist, and steps forward into Kitayama’s space, wrapping arms around his waist and pressing in close against his back. He reaches down and undoes Kitayama’s belt, nose buried in Kitayama’s hair as Kitayama slowly rolls his hips up into Fujigaya’s touch.

Kitayama is already mostly hard when Fujigaya shoves his jeans and underwear down, but it’s Fujigaya who moans loudest when he strokes Kitayama the rest of the way hard. The want from before throbs inside of him, making him squeeze his legs together. “Mitsu, I want you so much.”

“Then why are you still dressed?” Kitayama twists in Fujigaya’s arms and starts tugging at his clothing. Fujigaya gets in the way of everything because he won’t stop rubbing against Kitayama, touching everything he can get his hands on. “Useless,” Kitayama accuses affectionately, then orders, “Hands up!” like he’s looting the National Bank of Taisuke, and Fujigaya can’t stop laughing as he complies and Kitayama finally tosses the rest of their clothing aside.

“Arrr,” he says, the pirate voice making Kitayama tilt his head in confusion. “Are you here to plunder my booty?”

“For real, what is wrong with you?” Kitayama demands, but he’s laughing too, and then he shoves Fujigaya backwards so that he tumbles onto the bed on his back. “You just want another gigantic hat, don’t try to lie like it’s about me.”

“Well.” Fujigaya stretches out lazily, putting everything he’s got to offer on display and not minding at all while Kitayama looks it all over thoroughly. “I wouldn’t say no to a new hat, certainly. Mm, we could get you some leather boots…”

“Freak,” Kitayama says with affection, crawling up on the bed and settling his weight on top of Fujigaya. He shifts a bit, getting comfortable, and Fujigaya hums in pleasure at the slide of their skin together. Kitayama settles on his elbows and frames Fujigaya’s face with his palms, running his thumbs up Fujigaya’s cheekbones. “This is the you I love best, you know.”

“Mm?” Fujigaya asks, warmth rushing over his skin at the sounds of Kitayama saying he loves anything about him. Kitayama’s direct gaze warms him up even more, from his heart outwards.

“You on tour,” Kitayama clarifies, still stroking fingers over Fujigaya’s cheeks, smoothing his hair back from his face. “You’re so full of energy, so happy. It looks so good on you. It’s really obvious how much you love what we do. How much you love us.”

“Mitsu…” Fujigaya squirms a little, entirely pleased and it’s all true, but it isn’t the sort of thing he ever says directly. “You don’t have to say all this stuff just to fuck me.”

“I’m saying it just to say it,” Kitayama says stubbornly, holding Fujigaya’s face in place more firmly when Fujigaya tries to look away. “So quit being all fidgety about it, since we both know it’s true, and say you love me too.”

“I really do,” Fujigaya agrees, wrapping arms around Kitayama’s neck to pull him down for a long kiss. He opens his mouth as soon as Kitayama licks at his lips, sighing happily at the slide of their tongues together. Kitayama’s weight is warm and heavy on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and relaxing every part of him, until he realizes gradually that they’re rocking against each other. “Mm, feels good but…”

“But?” Kitayama prompts, trailing his lips over Fujigaya’s cheek and down his jaw.

“But more.” Fujigaya spreads his legs wide enough that Kitayama settles down in between them, and the next roll of his hips has his cock rubbing behind Fujigaya’s balls, so close to where Fujigaya wants him, but not nearly good enough. “I want more of you, all of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lips press against his chest and _down_ , and Fujigaya’s already arching by the time Kitayama reaches his navel. A tongue licks the scarred area where his piercing used to be and Fujigaya gasps, sifting his fingers through Kitayama’s hair in encouragement. Kitayama’s hands slide up the backs of his thighs, looping his arms around them as Fujigaya’s hips give a sharp undulation in anticipation of Kitayama’s mouth.

Except that Kitayama barely presses a kiss to the head of his cock, lapping up a drop of precome before continuing down, lavishing his balls. Fujigaya moans, arching on the bed as Kitayama’s tongue keeps moving, going down down down until he feels the wet flick to his rim, pulling a strangled noise from his throat.

“ _Mitsu_ ,” Fujigaya groans, because in his entire sexual experience with men, he’s never had this done to him before. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.”

Kitayama makes a noncommittal humming noise, which vibrates _inside_ him and Fujigaya’s body rocks autonomously. His noises get louder as Kitayama’s tongue gets faster, licking the entire ring of muscle before past it, pushing it in and out as he licks his way inside him. Fujigaya feels his thighs trembling even under Kitayama’s tight hold, which loosens as the latter brings a hand up to slide a slick finger alongside his tongue.

Fujigaya pushes back against it, desperate for more, and Kitayama obliges with a second finger, licking around the pair of them as he moves them in and out. He hits that spot and Fujigaya’s entire body jerks, his cock leaking on his own stomach and he actually thinks he could finish like this, with Kitayama prodding him deep inside and tonguing the entire perimeter of his rim.

A third finger joins the others and now Fujigaya’s arching off the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest to feel more. He’s so ready for Kitayama to be inside him, but he doesn’t want this to stop. “Mitsu,” he moans, and everything Kitayama’s doing to him doubles in speed. “So good.”

“I can make it better,” Kitayama whispers, nearly sending Fujigaya into convulsions from the depth of his voice vibrating him _there_. “You’re so responsive to me, Taisuke. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Do it,” Fujigaya hisses, only whining a little when the wet warmth of Kitayama’s tongue leaves him. It continues up his chest, leaving shiny trails of saliva in its wake, and pulls soft moans from Fujigaya when it detours to lick his nipples. Then he starts to reach for the condom packet he’d already placed next to them, but Fujigaya grabs his wrist. “Not this time.”

Kitayama meets Fujigaya’s eyes in a mixture of confusion and arousal. “No?”

“We’re exclusive, right?” Fujigaya asks, and Kitayama nods. “I want to feel it all, even that.”

“Taisuke.” Kitayama leans down to kiss him hard, never mind where his mouth just was, and Fujigaya melts into it, all of his limbs wrapping around Kitayama’s body. “I’ll pull out, then.”

“No,” Fujigaya says firmly. “I want to feel you come inside me. I want to feel _your come_ inside me.”

Kitayama just groans and pulls his fingers from Fujigaya, giving himself a few good swipes of lube before pressing the tip against Fujigaya’s stretched hole. A different kind of wetness coats his rim now and Fujigaya’s body lurches in search of more, nearly sucking Kitayama’s cock inside it as Kitayama pushes in. They both moan at the pressure and Kitayama wraps his arms around Fujigaya’s ribs, pinning his legs even closer to his chest as he bottoms out and gasps into his chest.

“Yes,” Fujigaya says, rocking up to feel more. Kitayama is hard and thick inside him with no barriers and Fujigaya craves it, wants Kitayama to fuck him hard and paint his insides. “Move, Mitsu, please.”

“So good,” Kitayama mutters, pressing deep noises into Fujigaya’s skin as he starts to roll his hips. “You feel so good, Taisuke.”

“More,” Fujigaya gasps, and Kitayama moves faster. “ _More_.”

Kitayama lets out a strained moan as he complies, quickly building up speed and depth as his arms tighten around Fujigaya, effectively fucking him into the mattress while Fujigaya just takes it. Endless streams of his name filters into his ears, the words hot on his chest with each of Kitayama’s thrusts, and all Fujigaya can do is hold on to Kitayama’s shoulders as he’s taken higher with each pound of Kitayama’s cock deep inside him.

“I love you,” Kitayama breathes, and Fujigaya’s skin tingles with a different kind of feeling. “Taisuke, I love you.”

It’s rushed and insistent and Fujigaya just nods, twisting his fingers in Kitayama’s hair hard enough to make him moan. “I love you, too.”

The words don’t even seem lame anymore, because he _feels_ it and he knows Kitayama does, too. They couldn’t be any closer unless they physically fused into one person, both clinging to the other as Kitayama moves inside him. Fujigaya feels closer to him right now than any other human being in his life, yet it’s still not enough and he moans for more while Kitayama gives him everything he’s got.

Hands wade through the sweat of Fujigaya’s back to grab his ass, fingers firmly sinking into the little flesh that is there as Kitayama pulls him up at the same time he pushes down. This changes the angle and now Fujigaya’s noises are uncontrollable, Kitayama hitting that spot dead on with no intention of stopping.

“Touch me,” Fujigaya gasps, his body jerking all over from the pressure. “Mitsu, please touch me. I’m so close.”

“Can you come like this?” Kitayama asks, his voice positively sinful. “Without being touched?”

“I don’t know,” Fujigaya pants. “It feels like I can, but I’m never done that before.”

“Try.” And Kitayama thrusts even harder, each sharp jolt of pleasure going right to Fujigaya’s cock that’s bouncing between their chests, not nearly enough friction to get him off.

“Keep talking?” he asks, no idea how to get there himself, but Kitayama’s voice has always affected him, and now he can feel it all over his skin and deep inside.

“Yeah,” Kitayama agrees, voice a breathless growl. “Just relax into it, you can do it. I want you to come for me so much, want to feel you when I’m so deep inside you.”

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya pleads, on fire and completely helpless, desperate, teetering right on the edge. He digs his fingers into Kitayama’s skin so hard it has to leave marks, but Kitayama only growls more encouragement, holding him in place as he fucks Fujigaya at the perfect angle no matter how Fujigaya thrashes. Something white hot bursts inside of Fujigaya and tears over his limbs, choking his voice silent.

“Shit, you’re really gonna do it,” Kitayama says, eyes wide and so full of wonder, and that’s the last thing Fujigaya sees before his whole body convulses, his orgasm so weirdly internal that the actual pulsing of his cock is almost an afterthought.

Fujigaya is still shaking and twitching all over as Kitayama comes inside of him, chanting his name over and over. Fujigaya whines his name back, overwhelmed. His nerves are still buzzing and his skin feels funny, like his brain can’t sort out any of the signals yet, and all he wants is for Kitayama to fix it.

“Shh, relax,” Kitayama soothes, stroking whatever skin he can reach without moving. He lifts his head with what looks like an enormous effort, and he’s grinning so smugly that Fujigaya would hit him if any of his limbs worked. “Damn, you really did it. Are you okay? You came forever.”

“Feel weird,” Fujigaya grunts, finally getting his voice to cooperate, sort of. His hands and feet are still tingling with it, but in the places where Kitayama’s hands are rubbing warm circles, it feels so good. He lets his eyes flutter shut and relaxes into that. “Keep touching me?”

“Mm, always. That feels better?” Kitayama asks, catching on, and Fujigaya grunts an affirmative. The warm touches spread down Fujigaya’s shoulders and arms, smoothing away Fujigaya’s goosebumps. Fujigaya sighs with relief when Kitayama cradles one of Fujigaya’s hands between his palms and uses his thumbs to work out the last of the pins and needles.

Kitayama sits up to massage the back of Fujigaya’s thighs before pulling out. He’s gentle, but Fujigaya still groans, already stiffening up, and then there’s the messy aftereffects of his sex choices.

“Ew,” Fujigaya says without any conviction. Kitayama kisses the inside of his knee before pushing his leg down flat, reminding him that he wanted to feel _all_ of it. Fujigaya opens his eyes to give Kitayama a bland look, making him chuckle.

“Want a bath?” Kitayama asks, even though he’s already flopping down against Fujigaya’s side and getting comfortable.

“Fuck that, I’m never moving again,” Fujigaya grumbles. He scrunches down, wincing, but doesn’t stop until his face is tucked in the curve of Kitayama’s neck, Kitayama’s breath stirring his hair. Fujigaya rolls into Kitayama and curls an arm around his waist to hold him right there, like he’s warning Kitayama not to have any wild ideas.

“Now you’re seeing it my way.” Kitayama’s hand drifts over the skin of Fujigaya’s back, fingering the bumps of his spine idly. “We should have let Watta stay, he’d clean us up.”

“If the brats don’t wear him out,” Fujigaya mumbles into Kitayama’s skin. He flails for the blankets with one hand without looking, until Kitayama takes pity on him and shifts to grab for them himself. Fujigaya sighs happily when the blankets are tucked in around his shoulders, trapping their heat against his skin. He feels loved, and in love, and wishes they could tour forever. “Mitsu…”

“Shut up.” Kitayama yawns, clearly fading fast. “I know. Me too. Just sleep already.”

“Hmph,” Fujigaya answers, supposing he can be satisfied with that.

They still don’t know when their anniversary is. Fujigaya’s pretty sure it’s been almost a year, since it was fucking cold when he’d first confessed and now it’s fucking cold again. His hair is much longer now, though, to his absolute delight as well as Kitayama’s. It’s like there’s some kind of magnetic attraction between Kitayama’s hands and his hair, at least when they’re not in public.

It’s really easy to avoid Kitayama on camera when the only other option is _jumping_ Kitayama on camera. Aside from a near-miss involving some eyeliner a few singles ago, Fujigaya’s managed to uphold his unenthusiastic face every time they’re paired together, even if Kitayama looks more jubilant than usual at Fujigaya’s discomfort. It’s no different than their photoshoots/dance formations for the past three years, so nobody is any the wiser.

Fujigaya figures if they can fool _Duet_ , they’re doing it right.

Near Christmas, they’re both invited to Tamamori’s radio show where they have a blast making fun of the other members and each other. Fujigaya likes doing radio because nobody can see his face, only hear his voice that he’s much better at disguising. Not that he should have to disguise it, he thinks bitterly, though he lets that thought go. They both knew going into this that they would never, ever be able to share their relationship with the world, and besides, Kitayama’s irate enough about it for the both of them.

“It’s confession corner time!” Tamamori announces, and Fujigaya rolls his eyes as he fakes a cheer along with Kitayama. “Kitayama will roll this die and confess to whomever it lands on!”

“Eh, why me?” Kitayama asks, pursing his lips in annoyance. “Make Taisuke do it.”

“I did it last time,” Fujigaya reminds him. “I had to confess to Miyata, and he still hasn’t let me live it down.”

“I keep hearing about it, too,” Tamamori tells him, like that’s comforting. “Go on, Kitamitsu.”

Kitayama heaves a dramatic sigh, but he’s grinning as he reaches for the die. Knowing him, he’ll make up some ridiculously cheesy confession to whomever gets chosen to embarrass the hell out of them on live radio. Kitayama has about as much shame as a hooker sometimes.

Tamamori’s cackling tells Fujigaya whom the die landed on before he even looks, though he doesn’t have to make the effort when Kitayama picks it up and shoves it in his face. A bright pink F stares back at him, and Fujigaya inwardly curses his life.

“Ah, Taisuke is on the receiving end of my affections today,” Kitayama says with a grin so wicked that there is no doubt in Fujigaya’s mind that he’s having a blast. “Lucky you.”

“Are you sure you didn’t cheat?” Fujigaya asks. “Tama-chan, did you see him roll?”

“I did,” Tamamori replies, though Fujigaya doesn’t trust him as far as he could throw him.

“Like I would pick you if I was going to cheat,” Kitayama shoots back, completely unable to hide his amusement. “You’re the least fun out of everyone.”

Fujigaya hrmphs. “That’s a bad way to start a confession.”

“Okay, fine.” Kitayama turns to face Fujigaya, staring into his eyes as he takes Fujigaya’s hand into his. There are absolutely no cameras in the studio (they’d checked), so that was entirely for him. “Taisuke, I’ve known you for way too long and I see your face way too much.”

“This confession sucks,” Fujigaya mutters.

“But that just means I’ve watched you grow up from a spoiled brat into a determined man, on some days even someone who can pass as an adult.” Kitayama pauses to take a breath, and Fujigaya scoffs at the dig. “Even with our differences, we manage to pull off symmetry without much effort at all.”

Fujigaya bites his lip as he remembers the many other ways they have symmetry, and he knows Kitayama’s thinking it too by the way his eyes flash.

“You’re already by my side so much that I’ve gotten used to it,” Kitayama goes on, squeezing Fujigaya’s hand. “So I guess what I’m saying is, I like you.”

“What kind of confession is that?” Tamamori taunts while Fujigaya just shakes his head at Kitayama throwing _his own words_ back at him. On the radio.

“An awesome one,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya can’t stop smiling.

“Gaya, you’re awfully quiet,” Tamamori points out.

“What do I even say to that?” Fujigaya replies, trying to sound annoyed. “That was awful.”

“Sorry, I’ll do better next time,” Kitayama says mechanically.

“You two are the worst,” Tamamori mutters.

“We can’t all be like you and Miyata,” Fujigaya says pointedly, and Kitayama laughs.

Tamamori makes a face and Kitayama pries Fujigaya’s hand open to lace their fingers together, clearly intending to sit like this for the rest of the show.

“Don’t be gross,” Tamamori tells them during a song, and Fujigaya grabs Kitayama’s face to plant one on him just to be spiteful. It’s light and quick and Kitayama’s searing eyes tell him he wasn’t near done, making Fujigaya’s blood boil as Kitayama licks his lips promisingly. “If I see any questionable movements under the table,” Tamamori adds, “I’m outing you.”

“Jealous looks bad on you,” Kitayama tells him, but then the song’s over and Tamamori goes back to the show without missing a beat. They talk about the upcoming holidays, everything that’s happened this year, and hopes for the future.

“This past year was so amazing,” Kitayama says, and the squeeze of his hand tells Fujigaya that he’s including their relationship in his statement. “Everyone has worked hard together and on their own to end on such a high note like this. We took chances and went with our hearts and moved forward without looking back. It could have ended up badly, but it didn’t.”

“Sometimes you have to take risks, right?” Tamamori interjects.

“If you don’t, you’ll never go anywhere,” Fujigaya adds, and Kitayama smiles at him. “The best happiness comes from the effort it takes to get there.”

Tamamori blinks at him. “You said something unexpectedly smart just now.”

“Did I?” Fujigaya replies. “I guess I did.”

“It was a fluke,” Kitayama chides.

“Must have been,” Tamamori agrees.

Fujigaya laughs. “Hey now.”

“Well, we’re just about out of time,” Tamamori wraps up, and they all plug their new holiday single and Nikaido’s first drama role before saying their goodbyes, both to the listeners and to each other.

Then Fujigaya follows Kitayama back to his apartment, where he basically lives now, and cherishes the happiness he’s worked so hard for once again.


End file.
